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JANUARY

The MAD
ROBOT

BY WILLIAM
P. MCGIVERN

FRl

Are you interested in a

SHAVING CREAM

REMEMBER, THERE ARE 2 TYPES OE IISTERINE SHAVING CREAM

Out of this tube come swell shaves

for men who prefer no-brush cream

Men, here is a product
dedicated to the proposition that
shaving is a nuisance and a bore !

Sure, there is solace and comfort for shavers, in the
big sea-green and white tube of Listerine Shaving
Cream. But pleasure.

Pleasure is too much to ask of any shaving cream
, . . because no matrer how you slice ’em, whisking off
the whiskers is no fun.

That is why a man is entirled to all the help he can
get to relieve the tedium and to speed the razor across
the finish line . . . which is exactly where Listerine
Shaving Cream comes in.

It is a sensible shaving aid. In every fractional inch of
its quality cream, there is lots and lots of good, rich
lather. And every moist billow which you brush-up is
crammed with coolness, packed with what it takes to
make shaving as painless as possible.

If all this sounds reasonable to you, we'd like you to
meet Listerine Shaving Cream face to face. Ask for it
at any drug counter. The price is low, the tube lasts
long; so it is just as smart to buy as it is smartless to use.

P. S. TO THE LADIES: For a great shampoo try friend
husband’s Listerine Shaving Cream . . . just a little makes
clouds of foamy, cleansing lather.

Lambert Pharmacal Company, St. Louis, Mo.

6ET BOTH FREE

I iriU Mnd Tou this FREE LessoiE. "Getting
Acquainted With Receiver Servicing, ’* to show
you how practical It is to train for Radio in
spare time. It's a valuable lesson. Study it—
keep It — use it — wlthoirk obligation ? Tells how
"Superhet" Receivers work, gives hints on
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Rewards In Radio," It describes many faseU
nating jobs Radio offers, explains bow N.R.I
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See How I Train You at Home in Spore Time to

Be A Radio Technician

J. E. SMITH
fftMldent
NMlenal Aadls

iRStitUtS

EsisbIHhed
29 Y»an

I Trained These Men

&jp||^ no a Week )n Suers Tims

"I rspilred some Radio eeU uhen
iW I was nn Civ ('■idIi le«K>n. 1 rent;

don't M« how you can itire so
^ ji® . mufli for eucli a snt;ill amouniof
money. I made *600 tn s year
< d and a half, aoil 1 Iuts raada an
■ Hi STerase <4 tlUswesk— hutapars
tlma" JOHN JEKBT, 133T KsUmiU. St..
D«n»6f. Colo.

t2M a Month In Own BusIneM ,

“For Mweal years T hate been in
buklnejaformyaelfmaklngaround
SShOarDODih. Businowlia'atsad-
lly Inixeaaeit. I haeo N.S.I. to IvyjX'
thank (or my start in tills fleld."

ARUS J. BOtOHHNICK. 300 W.

Texas Ato.. Qeofe Creek, Texas.

^|g|^ let Lieutenant In Slgflal Corse
l^^gas; 'T cannot dlrtilse any Information
aa to my type of work. Sut I can
W that N.B.I. IralninR Is eor-
tafnly coming In mighty handy
tWe days." RlCHAKi) W. AN-
^ DuRRON (address omitted for
Hi military reasons).

Here's your ehsncv to ret s rood iob in s
busy wartime fleld with a brUrht pescetlmeru-
^re! There la a real ahmUage today ef trained
Radio Technicians and OpenUon. So mail
the CnupoD tar a FREE eample lesion and a
copy of my ii-plre. tltostrated "Win

Ridi Rewards 1 q Radio.*’ It deectlbes many
fasclnatlns types of Radio lobe; tells how
K.ELI. trains yon at bone in spare tine;
hovr you get practical axperleree ny building

Mvrs Rodifl T*cliBi«l«Rs, Oparators
Now Mako $S0 ■ Wook Than Ivor Bofero

Fixing Redlos paya better now than for
years. With new Radios out of production,
fixing old sets, which were formerly traded
in, srids greatly te the normal number of
ssrvlcinp jobs.

Broadeastiitf sUUons, Aviatten and Pollen
Radio, and other Radio branches are scram-
bling for Operalow and Technicians. Radio
Maaufaewrers. now working on Ooremnient
orders for Radio squlpment, employ trtlned
men. The QoTeennsent. too, needs hundreds
of competent clTlIlan end enlisted Radio mra
ud w^eiL You may never se* a titne sgalo

MdfiF BsglHMrs S«m Makt $5, $10
« Wssk EXTRA in Spar* Tima

The rownent you enr^ for ay Course I
'Wkltag you EXiilA MONET .TOR
SHiXTS that show how to sen ESTRA
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week extra la spare time while learning. I

send you BIX big kits of reel Radio peris.
You LEARN lUdlo fundamenCkls ffom vy
lessons— PRACTICE what you learn by li\iil(U
Ing typical elTCUlta — PROVE what you leant
by Interesting teste os the circuits you build.

EXTRA PAY IN ARMY, NAVY, TOO

Men likely to go Into military
service, soldiers, saUori. marines, I'llu
should mall the Coupon now I H ^ *5
I^amiftf Radio helps Service f
men get extra rank, extra pres-
(igo. more intarostlng duties.
much higher pay. Also prepsves for good
Ra<ilo jobs after service end.s. (Her
1,700 Semes men now onrtflkd.

I* Ready t« Cask In On Coed Poy Jobs

Coming In Totevlsion, Eieefronies

Tlilnk of the SEW jobs that Television,
Frequency Motlulalinn, Elcelrouirv, an.l ollief
Radio derejopments will open after ilie w.'jl
You have a teal oppoit'inlty. (Set Into Rjullo
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releasee these aitiasing wsitlnte Radio de-
velopments for peacetime tiee.';;

'nve opportunity the war bu given begin*
nars to get etarl.ed in tne fAM-iiisiliii; li. at
Radio may never be rfi>calcd. So take tha
firat step ^ once. (>et my FREE L<-seon and
«.pago, illuetratod book. No obUKatton—
no aalRsman will calL Aist mail Coupon In
an envelope ot paste It on a penny po.*tcard.
— J. K. SMtTn, Presldwit. Dept. 3NM, Na-
tional Radio iDtlKiite, WuhlUgUo 9. D,

TRAIH1N6 M£H FOB VITAL UDiO IBIS

m£

I M<. J. t. SMITH. OapI, IHM.

HATIOHAl SADIS IHSTITUTI, Wsd,h,lt>a *, 0. C.

_ H-t' ®* TEBK. wtUMM .bUntlMl, J«ir S.isale I^asaa tnH M-pagi Loolc. "
I Rich Rewards to Badto. ' (No Salwmao will e*iL Please write plainly.)

'Ttuiki 'That 4jave Seen
"Pented •kfumanttij

F or every word that has left the lips of bishops or states-
men to enlighten man, a tiiousand have been withheld.
For every book publicly exposed to the inquiring mind, one
hundred more have been suppressed— domnerf to oJ/iuion. Each
year of progress has been wilfully delayed centuries. Wisdom
has had to-filter through biased, secret sessions or ecclesiastical
council meetings, where high dignitaries of state and church
alone proclaimed what man should know.

Are you prepared to demand the hidden facts of life? Will
you continue to believe that you are not capable of weighing
the worth of knowledge that concerns your personal freedom
and happiness? Realize that much that can make your life
more understandable and lioable has been left unexplained or
'intentionally destroyed. At first by word of mouth only, and
nou; by private discourses, are revealed those truths which
secret brotherhoods preserved in ancient temples and hidden
sanctuaries, from those who sought to selfishly deprive hu-
manity of them.

THIS/rec BOOK OF EXPLANATION

Let the Rosicrucians, one of these ancient brotherhoods of
learning, tell you about these amazing truths, and explain
how you, too, like thousands of others, may now use them
to enjoy the fullness of life. The Rosicrucians, (not a re-
ligious organization) invite you to use the coupon opposite
and receive the FREE copy of the fascinating. Sealed Book,
with its startling tale of self help.

UBe ROSICRUCIANS (AMORC)

SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA, U. S. A.

j Scribe T, (■'. K. ’ I

THE ROSICRUCIANS (AMORC) j

Rosicrudan Park, San Jose. California, U.S.A. |
Please send me your FREE Sealed Book. I |
am sincerely interested In learning how I may ■
receive these loog-concealed facts of life. !

W E WRITE this column with a severe case
of nostalgia. Every time we glance at the
contents page and let our eye run down
the row of authors in this issue, we seem to be
back in the good old days before Pearl Harbor.
Every one of those names, with one exception,
graced our contents pages before the war with
amazing regularity. Now, for various reasons, they
are absent. One reason : McGivcrn, Costello,
Vance, Williams are in the army. Rej^ is busy in
war work. Second reason, paper cuts have forced
us to buy much less fiction.

'^HEN, you say, how come all these boys are
back in this issue? Well, we hauled some of
our precious manuscripts out of our files and made
up a very special issue Just as a sort of celebration
over our recent victory in Italy, which brings the
day when these authors will really be back much
closer, and in celebration of another victory of
even greater scope which we predict may come
even before this issue hits the stands. Even Hitler
knows his day is coming, and is he worried !

IRST, in our special “service” issue is Wil-
liam P. McGivern’s “The Mad Robot.” It is
featured on the cover by a very fine painting by
Robert Fuqua, and we think you’ll get a great
kick out of one of the finest McGivem yarns of
this type.

r\EPARTING from our usual policy, and at
^ the same time maintaining it — which sounds
like a contradiction, but really isn’t — our back
cover this time illustrates a story, Just as does
our front cover. However, the back cover is also
one of the series “Stories of the Stars” — so there’s
two shots in one gun. P. F. Costello did the story,
“Phantom City of Luna.” If you want a really
fine interplanetary, with every'thing this top-notch
author can put into such a story, this is it!

D OSS ROCKLYNNE took one of Magadan’s
illustrations and wrote 34,000 words about it.
He wrote “Intruders from the Stars,” an inter-
planetary yarn that’ll make you kick your heels
up for sheer delight. Ross wrote us and asked us

to hurry this into type because the war might pass
it by. However, we hand it to you as he wrote
it, and we think you’ll get a great kick out of
comparing something written a year ago, with to-
day’s actual events — and when you finish, don’t
say our authors can’t foretell the future along
pretty accurate lines simply because they study
the situation and apply logic to its future pos-
sibilities. We believe no writers use as much logic
as the science fiction writer.

/^ERALD VANCE does a short story called
“The Needle Points to Death,” also inter-
planetary in nature. You might call this a special
interplanetary issue too, if you want to. This is
our last Vance story in the house. We have quite
a few McGivems, though, and we wish Vance had
done as much before he left.

/^LD Master Ed Earl Repp gives us “Master
of the Living Dead” — and need we say more?
This guy always gives us a good yam!

Tj'INALLY, our newest author (in the army and
out again on an honorable discharge) Berkeley
Livingston, does “Island of Eternal Storm” which
will thrill you with a new and weird concept about
a “stone” from infinity, and about an island where
life is something different entirely from what we
know.

Y^E BELIEVE you’ll sit up and draw a deep
* ' breath of admiration when you read Robert
Moore Williams’ “Battle Before Dawn.” Here is
a really fine story, by a really fine writer. Incident-
ally, Bob just sent us a manuscript — written while
in the army! The only writer who has been able
to do it so far for us ! Needless to say we bought
it ten seconds after we got a look at the first
page! You’ll see both in a coming issue.

A MAZING Stories is still being published every
two months (to answer the questions of many
readers), and we alternate It with Fantastic Ad-
ventures. Thus, you still get a Ziff-Davis book
each month, and we advise you to reserve your
(Continued on page 8)

AMAZING STORfES

FEMALE BEAUTY

ROUND the

fji

WORLP.^%f

Mforld’s Greatest Collection of^
Strange and Secret Photographs

N OW you can travel round the world with the
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witness the strangest customs of the red, white,
brown, black and yellow races. You attend their
startling rites, their mysterious practices. They are
ail assembled for you in these five great volumes of
THE SECRET MUSEUM OF MANKIND.

600 LARGE PAGES

Here is the World’s Greatest CoHectlon of Strange i
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from Asia, Female Photos from Oceania and Amer- I
ica, and hundreds of others. There are almost 600 3

LARGE PAGES of Strange 6 Secret Photographs, ^
each page 57 square inches in sizel £

1000 REVEALING PHOTOS |

You see actual courtship practiced in OTery quar-
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queer lands where the foot of a white man has Be
rarely trod. You see Oriental modes of marriage and

Contents of 8*Volume Set

Volume 1 — The Secret Album of Africa
Volume 2 — The Secret Album of Europe
Volume 3 — The Secret Album of Asia
Volume 4 — The Secret Album of America
Vohime 5 — The Secret Album of Oceania

^11 t female slavery in China, Japan, India, ■
>11 i Throush the intimacy of the camera you

' 11 / witness the exotic habits of every continent

tf / and the strangest customs of life and love in
B / America. Europe, etc. You are bewildered by
f I these large pages of ONE THOUSAND
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B and thrilled by the hundreds of short stories

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3 f y The SECRET MUSEUM OF MANKIND con-
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Various Secret Societies— Civilized Love vs. Savage-
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1,000 strange and Secret Photos

AMAZING STORIES

(Continued from page 6)

copy at your newsstand, because believe us, they
are becoming very rare ! Your editor had to go
out and buy one the other day I

r>Y THE way, there’s some fine entertainment
^ to fill the gap in our quarterly issued Mam-
moth Detective. You will be pleasantly surprised
if you read it, to find a lot of your favorite science
fiction authors performing in its pages. A new
issue (containing a sensational 72,000 word novel
by John Evans) will be on the stands on Novem-
ber 16. Why not get it?

'T'HE next issue of Amazing Stories will con-
tain Robert Bloch’s finest story “It’s A Small
World,’’ illustrated on the cover and interior by
J. Allen St. John with some of his finest work.
By aU means don't miss it!

T^E PRESENT here a letter from an old friend
’ ' of yours, Arthur T. Harris, who apparently
saw a reference to himself in our companion maga-
zine Fantastic Adventures. However, the letter is
so interesting, that we give it to you in this maga-
zine, since all of you know him well. He says:

“Through clandestine channels, word reaches me
that mention of my name appeared in the May,
1943 issue of Fantastic Adventures. Although I am
presently engaged in matters of vital importance,
I was at once struck with the thought that, after
all, my friends in the world of science fiction have
not forgotten me.

“Here, thousands of miles from home, while
every hour I am engaged in those peculiarly com-
plex activities which. I believe, will serve as a
definite contribution to final victory, at the same
time my thoughts often turn back to that brief
interval between wars when 1 was permitted to
exercise my talents in the realm of scientifiction.

“It is good to know that warm hearts still beat
for me in the publishing business, for when the
war is over, I expect to retire to my Connecticut
farm to devote all my time to the writing of my
World War II memoirs. I expect also to do some
science fiction, as my current endeavors have led
me into channels which are sometimes so esoteric as
to demand the relief of fiction, since no other
literary medium could convincingly portray the
harsh, if hiddai, peril of my present existence.

“As my readers will recall, my travels during
and after the last war brought me in contact with
Russian communists and the Chinese nationalists,
not to mention incipient undercover movements

in the Balkans and in certain countries of Central
America. It is entirely possible that at the close
of the present conflict, the Allies may see fit to
permit my employment in Spain, Poland, or even
Indo-China. Even then, I would consider myself
one with science fiction.”

'^HIS interesting letter from one of our war-
bound authors is dated “Somewhere in the
World, Sept. 15, 1943.” Well, Arthur — we hope
you are stationed in good old America when this
war is over, and that you do more fiction for
us then — perhaps using the strange truth you are
now seeing in a fictional sense for our pages. Until
then, good luck !

A S IS the custom of humans, we wonder if
^ ^ animals communicate with one another in
any way? We note that the great apes bark at
one another, that the love birds chirp so gaily one
to the other.

Probably it is not so much just what is said, but
rather just how and under what conditions it is
said. The bark of a dog may mean many things at
various times ; at one time it may mean a desire to
eat or be fed, at another it may be a sign of anger
or reproach. The rooster is another one who
speaks at the right time; at four in the morning
the rooster’s cry is interpreted as being a sign to
humans to awake. At another time, when the
rooster, having fought an enemy and won, crows,
the crowing is interpreted as a victory cry or a
sign of triumph.

A dog’s wail has been interpreted as meaning
the close approach of death to someone. Usually
it means that music, irritating to the dog’s sensi-
tive eardrums is being played.

The beaver, who at times beats the ground with
his tail, has also been accused of having a language
all his own. Perhaps ! It is known that the
beavers beat their flat tails against the water dur-
ing mating time. This may be to call the mate.
Beavers also beat their tails against the water when
an enemy approaches. The sound may be compared
to a loud clap of one’s hands.

There are very few who have not heard calves
and lambs “baa.” This action may be taken at
various times. When they are strayed, it may be
extremely helpful in aiding the mother to relocate
her lost children. This cry may also be made when
food is desired.

Birds sing during the mating season. Usually it
is only the male which sings. This has been said
to be a form of courtship rather than music to
please human ears. Birds also have warning cries,
a fact to which anyone who has hunted geese can
well attest.

It would seem then, that animal language U
quite simple, restricted to warning and mating
calls, to cries of hunger, pain and conquest. Al-
though interesting enough, it can hardly be com-
pared to human language and speech.

(Continued on page 100)

AMAZINS STORIES

tJt Here’s how you— yes, YOU— can carry out a
smashing "pincer movement” against the Axis. Swing
in on one flank with increased production of war goods!
Drive in on the other with redoubled purehasos of
Var Bonds through your Pay-Roll Savings Pla»i!

You’re an ofTioer in both of these drives. Your per-
Bonal leadership is equally vital to both. But have you
followed the progress of your Pay-Roll Savings Plan
as closely as you have your production?

Do you know about the new Treasury Department
quotas for the current Pay-Roll Allotineut Drive?
Quotas running about 50% above the fonnerfigurcs? You
see, these new quotas are based on the fact that the
armed forces need more money than ever to win the
war, while the average worker has more money than
ever before to spend. Particularly so, on a family in-
come basis— since in so many families several members
are working, now.

Remember, the bond clnarts of today are the sales
curves of tomorrow! Not only will these Vi ar Bonds
implement our victory— they’ll guard against inflation,
and they’ll furnish billions of dollars of purchasing
power to help American business re-establish itself in
the markets of peace.

So get tliis new family income plan working at once.
Your local ’S'ar Finance Committee will give you all
the details of the new plan. Act today!

LET’S KEEP ON Backing the Attack!

This Space is s Contiibuiloa to America's AU.Quc V7ar Effort bf
AMAZING STORIES

By WILLIAM P. McGIVERN

R ick WESTON arrived at the
Earth space-port outside Greater
New York at six o’clock in the
morning. He was driven directly to the
mooring tower where his slim, fast pur-
suit single-seater was being readied for
his trip to Jupiter.

The chief mechanic, a grizzled
Scotchman, who loved machinery more
than he did his wife, wiped his hands
on an oil-stained rag and nodded to
Rick.

“She’s purrin’ like a cat,” he said en-
thusiastically. “Shouldn’t give you no
trouble at all.”

“Well, it hadn’t better,” Rick smiled.
“If something goes wrong out there in
space I can’t very well drop into a con-
venient mooring tower and have it
fixed.” He glanced at his watch and
then looked down the long ramp that led
to the central offices of the vast sprawl-
ing field.

“H4s Captain Wilson been around?”
he asked MacPurdy, the chief
mechanic.

MacPurdy shook his head.

“Not yet, but he sent work over that
he’d be here before you left.”

“Good,” Rick asid. “I’ll go aboard
and wait for him.”

He had to stoop going through the
door of the ship and turn his wide
shoulders slightly. He was a big man
with solid, capable features, but his
weight was evenly distributed over his
frame. There was a solemn expression

on his face as he stepped into the small
control cabin and began a careful, thor-
ough check of the various panels and
equipment. He was careful and de-
liberate in his inspection and when he
finished he knew the ship was right.

He sat down then and lit a cigarette.
His big frame was relaxed and his eyes
were almost sleepy as they watched the

By WILLIAM P. McGIVERN

The chief mechanic, a grizzled
Scotchman, who loved machinery more
than he did his wife, wiped his hands
on an oil-stained rag and nodded to
Rick.

“She’s purrin’ like a cat,” he said en-
thusiastically, “Shouldn’t give you no
trouble at all.”

“Hcis Captain Wilson been around?”
he asked MacPurdy, the chief
mechanic.

MacPurdy shook his head.

“Not yet, but he sent work over that
he’d be here before you left.”

“Good,” Rick asid. “I’ll go aboard
and wait for him.”

He had to stoop going through the
door of the ship and turn his wide
shoulders slightly. He was a big man
with solid, capable features, but his
weight was evenly distributed over his >
frame. There wa.s a solemn expression

He sat down then and lit a cigarette.
His big frame was relaxed and his eyes
were almost sleepy as they watched the

Dropping l!ie girl to the
ground, the mammoth fig-
ure ot steel came down the
slope toward RIclc Weston

AMAZING STORIES

smoke curl toward the ceiling in lazy
blue spirals; but there was a sugges-
tion of dormant power in his loose
position and he looked as if he could
move with speed if the need arose.

The cigarette had burned half its
length when there was a step on tlie
landing plank of the ship and a second
later a tall, keen-eyed man in uniform
appeared in the doorway of the control
cabin.

“Early bird, as usual,” he greeted
Rick, smiling warmly. “Been here
long?”

“Just a few minutes,” Rick said, get-
ting to his feet. He shook hands with
Captain Wilson and said, “How soon
do you want me to leave?”

“Right away,” Captain Wilson
said. He glanced about the small cabin
with alert eyes. “Is the ship ready?”

Rick nodded.

“Fine,” Captain Wilson said. He
pursed his lips and frowned at the floor.
“I want to talk to you a minute, Rick.
You don’t know why you’re being sent
to Jupiter, do you?”

Rick shook his head.

“My orders were to take this ship to
Jupiter. As far as I’m concerned that’s
all there is to the assignment.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Cap-
tain Wilson said. “I was asked by the
divisional command to select a man for
an important mission to Jupiter. I
picked you, not because you’re a per-
sonal friend, but because you are trust-
worthy, observant, and most important
of all, close-mouthed.”

“Thanks for the bouquets,” Rick
said, smiling faintly.

^ATTAIN WILSON glanced at Rick
and his eyes were serious.

“You probably know,” he said, “that
the Earth-Mars council has for some
time been conducting robot.experiments
on Jupiter. We have quite an extensive

lay-out there, under the joint command
of our Doctor Simon Farrel and a bril-
liant scientist from Mars, Ho Agar.
We aren’t completely satisfied with
progress to date. And our Intelligence
is vitally interested in a complete re-
port of what’s going on there. You
are going to compile that report, Rick.
You will have no official status, other
than that of pilot in the Earth Space
Command. Ostensibly you are making
this trip to Jupiter to deliver supplies
which are needed there. The supplies
are in the storage compartment of the
ship now. You’ll have to depend on
your own ingenuity to get the informa-
tion we want.”'

“And just what is the information
you want,” Rick asked.

Captain Wilson shrugged his shoul-
ders helplessly.

“I can’t tell you because we don’t
know. We don’t suspect anyone, we
aren’t actually dissatisfied with the
production figures and experimental re-
ports that are sent us by Doctor Farrel,
but we do want to know ij anything
is wrong. You’ve got to find that out.”

Rick lit another cigarette slowly.

“What kind of a guy is Farrel?” he
asked.

“Brilliant but eccentric,” answered
Captain W'ilson. “He stands for no in-
terference, no questioning, but goes his
own way in his own time. That’s why
you are being sent in an unofficial
capacity. If he suspected that you were
spying on him I don’t know what he’d
do, but it wouldn’t be anything calm or
temperate. He’d likely destroy his
formulae and tell us all to go to blue
blazes.”

“And how about the Martian — Ho
Agar?”

“I don’t know him personally,” Cap-
tain Wilson said, “but his reputation as
a scientist is one of the finest in the
Universe. His work on metallurgy has

THE MAD ROBOT

been absolutely amazing. And from all
reports he is agreeable, easy to work
with and thoroughly cooperative.”

“Sounds all right,” Rick said. “One
other thing: what excuse will I have for
hanging around there after I deliver my
supplies? Won’t it look suspicious if I
don’t return immediately?”

“That’s been arranged,” said Captain
Wilson. “Orders will be sent to you
there to wait for the next ship from
Earth, which will be equipped with ex-
perimental apparatus. Your orders will
be to transfer that equipment to your
ship for the purpose of testing it at high
speed on your return trip to Earth. That
should ease any suspicion your delay
in leaving might create.”

“Good enough,” Rick said. “You
haven’t given me much to go on, but
I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“That’s all I want you to do,” Cap-
tain Wilson said. “Trust your common
sense and observation. And if you find
anything that you think should be re-
ported immediately, don’t use the com-
munication sets at our Jupiter base.
Take your ship out beyond the range of
their interceptor frequency and send
your message on the ship’s set.”

“I understand,” Rick said. He
glanced at his watch. “It’s six-twenty
now. Shall I be getting under way?”

“Right,” Captain Wilson said. He
shook hands with Rick and stepped to
the door, “Luck. This is a big job,
Rick, and you may need it.”

“Thanks,” Rick said. “I’ll be care-
ful.”

Y^HEN the captain had gone Rick
seated himself at the control panel
and closed the switch that hermetically
sealed the doors and the hatches of
the ship. Then he signaled the field’s
central tower for clearance and turned
on the juice that set the rear rockets
throbbing.

When a brilliant flare shot up from
the main tower in answer to his signal
he was ready to go. He set the rocket
rheostats at full power and slowly re-
leased the suction clamps that locked
the ship in its mooring slot.

The atmosphere of Earth screamed
past the sides of the ship as it blasted
void-ward.

CHAPTER II

J^ICK WESTON arrived at the
mighty planet of Jupiter seven
days later. The great glowing orb of
the greatest unit of the Solar system
had grown steadily in his fore visi-
screen with every passing hour; and
now that he was wdthin range of its
atmosphere it obscured the entire sur-
face of the screen.

He set the automatic controls and
fired the fore repulsion rockets. His
ship was slicing through Jupiter’s heavy
atmosphere and the sound of its passage
was a thin high wail.

The mooring tower and group build-
ings of the Earth-Mars base were sud-
denly visible on his visi-screen and he
felt his ship suddenly slide onto their
beam and plummet directly toward the
landing slot. He breathed a faint sigh
of relief. Although he was a veteran
of many such landings he never failed
to feel grateful when his ship slanted
onto a mechanical beam that would
lead him directly and gently to the
safety of a tower.

His speed was reduced to almost zero
as the slim nose of the ship nuzzled
softly into the tower socket. A com-
pressed air lock snapped shut with a
hiss and the ship stopped with a faint
jar.

When he descended to the ground
there was a short, swarthy man in uni-
form waiting for him. The man smiled
and stuck out a hand.

. 1 -!

AMAZING STORIES

‘‘I’m Hawkins,” he said, “charge of
maintenance here. Have you got all the
stuff we ordered?”

“I guess so,” Rick said. “But I really
wouldn’t know. Fm just a pilot. Your
supplies are in the rear storage locker of
the ship.”

“Fine,” Hawkins said, “I’ll have
some of the boys get busy unloading
right away. I suppose you’re in a hurry
to g.et started back.”

Rick shrugged and said, “Not par-
ticularly. I feel like a little rest first.”

He glanced around curiously at the
vast factories and buildings that were
shining under the pale cold light of the
distant sun. The main building was a
one-storied, duralloy structure that was
at least a half-mile long. In the middle
of the enclosure formed by flanking
factories w^as a comfortable looking,
four-storied buliding with curtained
windows.

Hawkins follow'ed his glance.

“That’s the living-quarters of the
scientists and technicians,” he ex-
plained. “The long shed houses the
robot assembly line.”

Rick saw only a few workers about
and he commented on that fact to
Hawkins.

“There’s only a dozen or so of us
here altogether,” Hawkins said. “Most
of the work is done by completed ro-
bots.”

“I see,” Rick said. He glanced about
a moment and then he lit a cigarette
and blew a cloud of smoke into the
cold thin air. “These robots seem to
be the coming thing,” he said absently.
“They’ll be ready for import to Earth
and Mars pretty soon, won’t they?”

Hawkins looked away and Rick saw
that the man’s face had become ex-
pressionless. It was as if a curtain had
been pulled down suddenly over a
lighted window.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” he said.

Rick didn’t push the questioning any
further. He knew a blank wall when
he saw one. But Hawkins’ reaction
was interesting and he filed it away in
his mind.

“Where can I find Dr. Farrel?” he
asked.

“I suppose he’s in his office now,”
Hawkins said.

“Where would that be?”

Hawkins gestured toward the four-
storied building.

“Thanks. I’ll be seeing you,” Rick
said, as he started for the doctor’s
office.

Hawkins smiled but his hard bright
eyes were not amused.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

ICK crossed the cleared ground and
entered the building that housed
Doctor Parrel’s office. A hall extended
the length of the building and an open
door led from this hall to a spare office,
furnished with a desk, a laboratory
bench and several chairs.

Rick took off his hat and stepped into
this office. It was empty. He looked
around curiously and then walked
toward the desk.

A door on the other side of the room
opened suddenly and a stooped, gray-
haired man in ill-fitting clothes ap-
peared and his eyes narrowed angrily
as he saw Rick.

“Who are you?” he snapped, limping
into the room. “What do you mean
by snooping around my office?”

Rick felt the blood mounting to his
face. He fought down his swiftly grow-
ing anger.

“I’m Captain Weston of the Earth
Space Command,” he said evenly. “I
presume you’re Doctor Farrel.”

“Yes, I’m Doctor P'arrel,” the gray-
haired man said, limping around behind
his desk and sitting down. “What do
you want?”

THE MAD ROBOT

“I just arrived from Earth with a
cargo of supplies,” Rick answered. “I
have some papers for you to sign.”

Doctor Parrel grunted and picked up
a glazed communication sheet from his
desk.

“You’re going to be here a while,
Weston,” he said. “I just got a message
from Earth ordering you to remain here
until another ship arrives.” He tossed
the message back to the desk and
scowled at Rick. “What’s it all about?”
he snapped.

“I haven’t the faintest idea in the
world,” Rick said quietly. “It’s my
business to take orders. I leave their
interpretation to my superiors.”

Doctor Parrel chewed viciously on
his lower lip and glared at Rick. Rick
noticed that the man’s small eyes fo-
cused on his for only a second or so.
They slid off his face and shifted to the
top of the desk.

“You’ll stay here at this building,
until your ship arrives,” he said. He
looked up at Rick and his watery eyes
held Rick’s for a second, then shifted
away again, “Keep away from the robot
factories and don’t question my men.
ril have no snooping interference in my
work. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Rick said dryly. He
forced back the angry words that quiv-
ered on his lips. He turned on his heel
and started for the door.

“Just a minute,” Doctor Parrel
snapped. “I’m not through talking to
you.”

Rick turned in the doorway and his
face was hard as chiseled granite. His
steady gaze forced the doctor’s eyes
down to the desk.

“What do you want?” he said in a
clipped, flat voice.

“I want to remind you that I am in
complete charge here,” Doctor Parrel
said. “If you remember that we’ll get
along much better,”

O ICK opened his mouth to reply, but
before he could speak, the door
opened and a tall, dark-haired girl
walked into the room.

“Hello, Dad,” she said to the man
behind the desk. “I ”

She noticed Rick then and her words
trailed off in confusion. A flush of
color appeared on her slim throat and
crept upward to her cheeks. “I’m
sorry,” she said, turning to the door,
“I didn’t know you were busy.”

“Stay where you are,” Doctor Parrel
said irritably. “Our guest,” he added,
sarcastically, “is just leaving.”

Rick glanced at the girl and was sur-
prised at her shy, hesitant beauty. Her
hair, dark and lustrous, fell in simple
waves to her shoulders and her features
were regular and delicate. She wore a
jacket and trousers of light soft leather
and a wide belt was buckled about her
slim waist. The costume was severely
practical and yet the simple clothes ac-
centuated the slim, gracious lines of her
body. It seemed unbelievable that this
lovely girl should be the daughter of
the twisted, bitter man behind the desk.

Rick saw that the doctor did not in-
tend to introduce him, so he nodded to
the girl without speaking and left the
room.

Outside, in the hall, he almost
bumped into a tall, slender Martian.
The Martian drew back and smiled
pleasantly. He was as tall as Rick but
he was thin, with the delicate bone-
structure that was typical of his race.
His lidless eyes were amber-colored,
and the only difference in his appear-
ance from that of an average Earth-
man was the boneless, spatulate nose
and the pale greenish cast of his skin.

“You are Rick Weston, I suppose,”
he said, in a high, soft voice, that was
not unpleasant. He extended a hand.
“Hawkins told me of your arrival. I
am Ho Agar. Permit me to welcome

AMAZING STORIES

you to our base.”

Rick shook hands with him and said,
“Thanks.” He glanced at the door
that led to Doctor FarrePs office and
added dryly, “Doctor Farrel doesn’t
seem to share your sense of hospitality ”

Ho Agar chuckled and patted Rick on
the arm.

“Don’t mind the doctor,” he said.
“He’s a good sort underneath all that
crust. You’ve got to know him a while
before he warms up. When I first ar-
rived I expected to be thrown out bodily
before the week was over, but we get
along excellently, now. Of course,” he
added with a grin, “there are still occa-
sions when I think he’d like to have
me boiled in oil, but they’re becoming
less frequent.”

Rick felt his feeling of bitter anger
cooling somewhat as a result of Ho
Agar’s friendliness.

“Well, I’m going to be here a little
while,” he said, “but I think I’ll just
keep out of his way. I don’t think we’d
ever develop a sweet, lasting friend-
ship.”

“Maybe not,” Ho Agar smiled, “but
the doctor will have forgotten he met
you by tonight. You’ll have to be in-
troduced to him again at dinner.”

“That’s certainly something to look
forward to,” Rick said ironically.

Ho Agar laughed and then a look of
friendly concern appeared on his face.

“I stand here gabbing,” he said rue-
fully, “when you probably want to get
to your room and get some rest. I’ll
take you up and see that you have
everything you need. Come along.”

“I’m not tired,” Rick said, “but I
would like to wash and get into some
clean clothes.”

TJTE FOLLOWED the Martian down
the hall to an elevator that took
them to the third floor. Ho Agar led
him to a large comfortable room that

had a shower and bath attached.

“You’ll find everything simple and
plain,” Ho Agar said, “but I think you’ll
be comfortable.” He sat down on the
edge of the wide bed while Rick took off
his leather jacket and shirt. “I’m on
the same floor, a few doors down, so if
you need anything at any time jrist give
me a call.”

“Thanks,” Rick said. He sat down
in a chair facing the Martian and lit a
cigarette. “After meeting you I don’t
feel quite so much like an intruder.”
He shook his head ruefully and stared
at the glowing tip of his cigarette.
“Doctor Parrel practically ordered me
to stay in my room until I was ready to
leave for Earth again, and he told me
to keep away from the robot factories
in no uncertain terms. You’d think I
was a well-known saboteur, to judge
from his reception.”

“You mustn’t let that bother you,”
Ho Agar said. “He treats everyone that
way. His life is completely absorbed
with his work here and he is often suspi-
cious and belligerent for no reason
whatever. If you’d like to look over our
plants I would be happy to act as your
guide. The work we are doing here is
not secretive and much of it is very in-
teresting. Whenever you feel like tak-
ing a tour just let me know.” He
smiled. “You wouldn’t know it to talk
to Doctor Farrel but I am equally in
command on this base. We don’t have
any arguments about the division of
authority, because I let him do pretty
much as he likes. I know that he is
interested solely in the production of
safe, dependable robot life and that is
all that matters to me.”

“I certainly appreciate your offer,”
Rick said. “I think I’d better take
advantage of it as soon as possible, be-
cause I haven’t any idea when my ship
will arrive.”

“Fine,” Ho Agar said. “We’ll go

THE MAD ROBOT

immediately if you like. I don’t have
anything pressing to do right now, and,
even if I did, I feel in the mood for a
holiday.” He got to his feet and walked
to the door. “Will half an hour be too
soon?”

“Not at all,” Rick said. “I can wash
and change in half that time.”

CHAPTER III

^ HALF hour later Rick and Ho
Agar walked across the cleared
compound to a graveled walk that led
to the long steel shed that housed the
robot assembly line.

“We’ve made great strides here,” Ho
Agar said, as he noted Rick’s obvious
interest in the sprawling factories.
“Four years ago when Doctor Farrel
and I arrived, this was as desolate a
place as you could imagine.”

“How about the doctor’s daughter?”
Rick asked. “I saw her but I didn’t
meet her. Did she come along with the
doctor on the original trip?”

“You mean Rita,” Ho Agar said.
“She arrived about a year later. Her
mother died on Earth and she had com-
pleted her schooling, so she joined her
father here.”

“Not a very normal life for a young
girl,” Rick said.

Ho Agar shrugged. “She seems con-
tented. She acts as her father’s secre-
tary and is very efficient. She is not
an easy girl to know, but I have found
her very intelligent and charming.”

They had reached the steel shed, and
an armed guard unbolted and opened a
massive steel door as they approached.
Ho Agar nodded to the man and stepped
through the doorway. He waited inside
until Rick joined him, then he turned
and swept his arm in a gesture that took
in the entire mighty plant that stretched
ahead of them for an unbroken mile.

“This is your first view of robot life

at work,” he said, over the noise of the
factory. “Someday such scenes may
be familiar to the entire world.”

Rick stared in fascination at the
hundreds of steel robots that were
working with mechanical speed and
rhythm beside the two long assembly
lines. There was only an occasional
human being visible throughout the
great plant and these men were present
in a supervising capacity.

Ho Agar smiled at Rick.

“It’s rather impressive, isn’t it?”

“It’s wonderful,” Rick said.

The robot workers were fashioning
others of their kind. Each robot per-
formed a specialized operation, for he
had been expressly built. Some had
intricate tools bolted to their wrists,
others were equipped with long, sensi-
tive steel fingers that moved with
uncanny sureness and bewildering
rapidity, checking delicate equipment,
making minute adjustments on compli-
cated rheostats and gauges. The robots
were not uniform in shape. There
were some constructed in a crouched
position, others were built with extra-
long arms or extra-long fingers to suit
more perfectly the particular work they
were doing.

The heads of the robots were simply
steel balls, about eight inches in diam-
eter, with a tiny slit in the front in
which was set a high-powered lens. On
the chest of each robot was a coil of fine
filament wire, protected by a metal
screen.

“The coils,” Ho Agar explained, “are
simply sensitive microphones that
transmit orders to the brain of the robot.
The lenses you see in their foreheads
act as motion-picture cameras that im-
press the image of what they ‘see’ on
the robot’s brain. Those operations
are simply mechanical,” Ho Agar con-
tinued, as he led Rick down the long
assembly line, “but the real problem has

AMAZING STORIES

beea to find some way to give robots
a mechanism that would act as a human
brain to interpret orders.”

‘‘You seem to have solved that prob-
lem brilliantly,” Rick said.

WATCHED a robot assembling
tiny screws on the surface of a slim
metal bar. The long, deft fingers moved
swiftly, unerringly through the screw
container, selecting the proper size and
groove, then fitting them into the metal
bar and moving them under a machine
that automatically tightened them into
place. “This robot here,” he said, “is
certainly more than a machine.”

Ho Agar nodded. “All the workers
here are completed and have passed all
their tests.” He glanced at a metal
tag on the assembly line directly in front
of the robot, on which were stamped the
numerals 18435.

“Watch,” he said to Rick. He
turned slightly and spoke directly to
the robot. “18435 cease work.”

The robot stopped working imme-
diately and waited motionlessly.

Ho Agar said to Rick, “You see they
obey perfectly. They are not automa-
tons, by any means. They actually use
intelligence and reason of a sort in obey-
ing our commands.” He nodded to
the robot. “You may resume work,
18435.”

The robot commenced work again
without an instant’s hesitation.

Ho Agar walked along, pointing out
various interesting phases of the robot
activity, until they reached the end of
the line. Ahead of them was a massive
door, bolted and protected by a combi-
nation lock.

Ho Agar twirled the dial for several
seconds, then swung the door open.

“Ordinarily only Doctor Farrel and I
are permitted in this laboratory, but I
think we can make an exception in
your case,” he said.

Rick followed him into a steel-walled,
windowless room about forty feet
square, equipped completely with deli-
cate laboratory apparatus. One wall of
the room was covered by a chest of
small drawers that extended from floor
to ceiling. Each drawer, of which there
were thousands, bore a small white card
on which a serial number and a chemical
equation were inscribed.

In the center of the room was a steel
table about four feet high, with power-
ful spring clamps at both ends and
heavy leather straps dangling from its
sides. There was a raised head-rest at
one end of the table that was set be-
tween the cushioned jaws of a vise.

“It looks like a medieval rack,” Rick
said.

“Its purpose is more humane,” Ho
Agar smiled. “In this laboratory the
robots are supplied with brains. Since
the operation is highly delicate, we lock
the robot into an immobile position, so
that it won’t inadvertently upset our
work with an untimely movement. The
head is secured in a vise and the arms
and legs are held by these clamps.”

“I see,” Rick said. He was silent for
a moment, then said, “I’d like to ask
you a question, Ho Agar. You may con-
sider it impertinent, but I’m going to
take a chance. These robots I’ve seen
work splendidly. Why aren’t you able
to export some of them to Earth and
Mars, now, to take over some of the
work they’re able to do?”

HO AGAR shook his head slowly.

“We aren’t ready yet,” he said.

“That’s what I’m asking,” Rick said.
“Why aren’t they ready? They look
ready.” He shrugged and smiled. “Of
course you can tell me to go to hell; it’s
none of my business, but I can’t help
being curious.”

“Yes,” Ho Agar said, “your curiosity
is understandable.” He sighed and sat

THE MAD ROBOT

down slowly, as if he were suddenly
very tired. There was a serious expres-
sion on his face that Rick hadn’t seen
before and his eyes were solemn.

“We are near success,” he said. “Our
robots are eminently satisfactory in
most respects. I have no doubt that we
could put a number of them into service
in factories on Earth and Mars with
excellent results. “But,” he .shrugged
and smiled bitterly, “we can’t be sure.
Things have happened here that we
have kept secret, because if they were
known it might prejudice the public
against ever accepting robot life. I
am trying to explain to you that all the
robots produced here have not been
successful. Some we were forced to de-
mobilize because they were too danger-
ous to have about. You see,” he said,
glancing up at Rick with an almost
pleading expression on his face, “we
can’t take the chance of sending a robot
from here that might, even years later,
go berserk and destroy human life. We
must continue our experiments until we
are absolutely certain that our robots
will operate favorably under all cir-
cumstances, until they wear out. There
can be no compromise. We either suc-
ceed or we fail. We cannot be satisfied
with anything less than perfection, be-
cause the results of imperfection would
be too horrible to contemplate.”

“But good lord,” said Rick, “haven’t
you been able to figure out what causes
these imperfections?”

“Not yet,” Ho Agar said, with a bit-
ter shake of his head. He was silent a
moment, then added, “Do you remem-
ber when Doctor Parrel first announced
his theory for the creation of practical
robot life?”

Rick nodded. “That was about ten
years ago, wasn’t it? I was just twenty-
two then, in training at the Earth space
school.”

“Then you probably know something

of the methods we use to create intelli-
gent robot life,” Ho Agar said. “Do
you remember, when Doctor Farrel’s
plan was adopted by the Earth-Mars
Federation, that we began a universal
appeal for persons of sound mental
health to bequeath their brains to the
Foundation after their death?”

“Yes, I remember that,” Rick said,
nodding. “There was considerable
squeamishness on the public’s part for a
while, but they got over that. The idea
of bequeathing brain tissue to be used
in robots became as common as giving
blood had been a few centuries before.”

“Precisely,” Ho Agar said. “Doctor
Farrel collected brain tissue for five
years before we actually began work
on our first robot. I was selected by
the doctor because of my experiments in
grafting metal and flesh together. Doc-
tor Farrel’s theory is comparatively
simple. He experimented for years at
attempting to devise a brain of some
synthetic substance that would act, in
lay terminology, as a sounding board
to carry commands to the robot’s motor
system. After trying thousands of sub-
stances he used human brain tissue,
which had been kept alive electrically.
The results, of course, were highly sat-
isfactory, and he announced his plan for
the collection of sufficient brain tissue
to build a few hundred experimental
robots. Actually in six years he re-
ceived enough tissue to build millions
of robots, for each robot only requires
a section of brain tissue a half inch
square.”

“T REMEMBER the response was
tremendous,” Rick said. “I signed
up and I don’t think there was a cadet
at the base who didn’t. My best friend,
Jimmy Haines, died shortly after, and
his brain was sent to the Foundation.
That’s why I always had a sort of per-
sonal interest in the work here.”

2 ()

AMAZING STORIES

“Haines?” Ho Agar repeated, frown-
ing. “He died on Mars, didn’t he?”

Rick nodded. “He crashed. For-
got to set his automatic controls for
landing and missed the beam.”

“I remember the case,” Ho Agar said.
“His tissue was sent here with the first
consignment. Of course, we keep no
record of the various brain tissue, other
than a serial number and chemical
formula.” He pointed to the thousands
of drawers in the wall cabinet. “That’s
our present repository, and we have
thousands more on Mars, waiting to be
shipped here. But it’s a safe guess
that your friend’s brain is at work right
now somewhere on the assembly line.
Of course, you understand, the will and
memory and personality of James
Haines ceased to exist when his brain
was removed from his body.”

“Yes, I know that,” Rick said. But
it was a peculiar feeling to realize that
one of those metal creatures he had
passed was being motivated through the
medium of a man who had been dead
for nine years and whom he had known
intimately and loved like a brother.

“But the one thing Doctor Parrel
hadn’t foreseen,” Ho Agar continued,
“was that using human tissue in these
metal robots would endow them with
certain human qualities. And that’s the
way it has worked. Some of our robot
products have been operating for four
years, admirably. Others have been un-
successful from the start. While still
others have gone along month after
month giving not the slightest trouble
and then have gone wild, smashing
machinery, attacking other robots
within their reach and generally be-
having like monsters.” Ho Agar spread
his hands in a helpless gesture. “Last
month we had our first casualty. A
robot went crazy on the line and de-
stroyed one of our guards while the man
was attempting to demobilize it. We

are not ready yet to admit defeat, but
unless our percentage of satisfactory
robots takes a sharp upswing, we’ll
have to face the fact that we have failed
utterly.”

“I see,” Rick said slowly. “I can un-
derstand, now,” he said, after a mo-
ment’s silence, “why Doctor Parrel
hasn’t got the time and energy to play
the gracious host.”

“Yes, it weighs on him terribly,” Ho
Agar said. “We all feel a sense of de-
feat, but the doctor holds himself re-
sponsible personally for the entire
failure. His room is on our floor and
many nights I hear him working hours
after the rest of us have gone to bed for
the night.”

He stood up and smiled.

“So you see there is a real excuse for
his bitterness. And now I think we had
better be getting back. Dinner will be
served soon and Miss Parrel likes to
have everyone there on time.”

When they left the laboratory Rick
saw the swift darkness had fallen, and
a wind had sprung up, beating against
the metal sides of the buildings with
cold, stinging blasts. There was the
feel of rain in the air as they hurried
across the cleared compound and into
the four-storied building that housed
their sleeping quarters.

CHAPTER IV

J^INNER was served by candle-light
in a long, wood-paneled room that
was warmed by a roaring, open fire.
There were eight at the table: Doctor
Parrel sat at the head, flanked by Ho
Agar and Hawkins, the chief of the
maintenance division. Rita Parrel was
at the foot of the table. Rick sat at
her left beside an engineer named
Webber, a gaunt, taciturn man who
looked hungry. Across from him, on
Ho Agar’s side of the table, were two

THE MAD ROBOT

research chemists, Morgan and Blair,
both men in their middle fifties. Mor-
gan was small, red-cheeked and bald-
ing; but Blair was a huge man with
fiery red hair and bushy eyebrows that
shadowed his small, peculiarly expres-
sionless eyes.

Rick ate hungrily, for the food was
exceDent and it had been hours since
he’d had a decent meal; but despite
the attention he paid his food, he
couldn’t help noticing the strained, un-
natural silence that dominated the
room. Doctor Farrel ate little and his
eyes circled the faces at the table rest-
lessly.

The silence of the room was broken
only by the growing fury of the storm
that was blowing over the base. Great
sheets of water smashed into the side
of the building with a continual boom-
sound and above this the thin, high
wail of the wind could be heard, scream-
ing like a tortured animal.

Rick noticed that Rita Farrel shiv-
ered involuntarily as a wind-driven
sheet of water struck the side of the
building like surging surf, rattling
the glasses on the table.

“Good night to be inside, isn’t it?” he
smiled.

She turned to him gratefully.

“It isn’t that there’s any danger,” she
said, “but the noise frightens me.”

“I think it does everyone,” Rick said.
“The only advantage to storms in the
void is that you never hear a thing. I
remember once seeing two meteor
swarms collide just beyond Earth’s
Heaviside layer, and it was like some-
thing from Dante’s Inferno. But the
only thing I heard was the sound of my
cigarette striking the floor of the con-
trol cabin.”

He went on talking to the girl and
her nervousness faded gradually.
Finally she laughed outright at some-
thing he said, and Rick saw her father’s

eyes focus in their direction. • The old
man looked irritable.

“Pardon me for interrupting your
gay chatter,” he said with heavy sar-
casm, “but could I have your atten-
tion for a moment, Mr. Weston?”

“Certainly,” Rick said.

“I have learned,” Doctor Farrel said,
settling back and placing his hands on
the arms of his chair, “that you chose to
disregard my instructions about visit-
ing the robot assembly line. Was there
any good reason for your violation of
my orders or did you just spend the
afternoon there because you found time
heavy on your hands?”

“I was just curious,” Ride said.

Hawkins looked at him and there was
no smile on his face as he said, “That
seems to be a predominant char-
acteristic of yours, doesn’t it?”

■jV/fORGAN, the red-cheeked, affable
little chemist, smiled nervously.

“After all, gentlemen,” he said with
spurious heartiness, “where would sci-
ence be today if men weren’t curious?”

“Shut up, Morgan!” Doctor Farrel
snapped. “I’m talking to Weston. I
want to know, Weston, why you disre-
garded my orders and went snooping
about the robot assembly plant?”

“Please, just one moment. Doctor,”
Ho Agar interposed suavely. “Mr.
Weston is a guest of ours. It was at
my invitation that he visited the robot
plant. You are being unfair if you sup-
pose he used his own initiative.”

Doctor Farrel banged his fist sud-
denly on the table.

“It doesn’t matter how he went there,
or with whom he went,” he shouted.
“He was ordered not to, yet he delib-
erately chose to ignore that order.”

“Please, Father,” Rita Farrel said
quietly. She glanced around the table.
“Shall we have our coffee in the
lounge?”

AMAZING STORIES

“An excellent idea, my dear/’ Mor-
gan said, rising to his feet with alacrity.

Hawkins said, “I think I’ll wait here
until I have Weston’s answer to the
doctor’s question.”

Rick glanced at Hawkins. The man’s
swarthy face was flushed with anger.
He wondered why his visit to the plant
should have upset the doctor and
Hawkins to such an extent.

“You don’t like me, do you,
Hawkins?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t like snooping spies,”
Hawkins snapped. He stood up ab-
ruptly, knocking his chair to the floor.
“I don’t give a damn about the other
men here but I’m serving warning on
you right now : Keep out of my depart-
ment, if you know what’s good for you.”

Rick smiled thinly and his face was
bitterly hard.

“If I want to go into your depart-
ment, Hawkins,” he said, “don’t try to
stop me.”

“I’ve said my piece,” Hawkins said.
He glared about the room for an instant
and then strode through the doorway.

There was an uncomfortable silence
in the room after Hawkins left. Rita
Farrel stood up and the rest of the men
rose to follow her into the lounge, a
comfortable living-room with windows
that overlooked the compound.

Farrel went directly to his office and
the other men drifted away, leaving
Ho Agar, Parrel’s daughter and Rick
alone in the room.

“You mustn’t mind Father,” Rita
Farrel said to Rick, and there was an
almost pleading note in her voice. “He’s
so nervous and overworked that he’s
snapping at everyone.” Her eyes begged
him to understand.

“I think,” Ho Agar said in his soft
voice, “that Rick understands what
your father and all of us are undergo-
ing.” He moved to the window and
drew the curtain aside as he spoke, and

the almost continual bursts of light-
ning revealed the glistening, mile-long
shed that housed the robot workers.

“Our robots are working harmon-
iously now, but none of us can guess
when one or more of them might
transform into a raging creature of
destruction.”

“Please!” Rita said, turning away
from the window.

“I am sorry,” Ho Agar said
simply.

ID ICK looked over the wind-swept,
rain-drenched compound at the
mighty robot plant and felt a sensa-
tion that was close to terror as he
thought of thousands of mighty metal
creatures, working with unbroken, un-
changing rhythm week after week,
month after month, feeling nothing, car-
ing for nothing but their appointed
work. The realization that that limitless
energy might at any instant be trans-
formed into a blind destructive force
was unnerving. Rick moved away from
the window, feeling an irritation with
himself for letting the tension of this
place get on his nerves.

Ho Agar excused himself a while later
and went to his room. Rick and the girl
talked for awhile over their coffee, and
he found her company charming. It
and went to his room. Rick and the girl
glanced at her watch and gave a low
exclamation of surprise.

“Why, it’s almost midnight,” she
said. “This is way past my bedtime.”
She stood up and extended her hand to
Rick in a frank, impulsive gesture.
“Thanks for tonight,” she said. “It’s
been fun.”

Rick smoked another cigarette after
the girl had gone, then went up to his
own room. He undressed slowly. The
storm had increased in. intensity and
the blasts of lightning threw weird flick-
ering shadows into his room. He

THE MAD ROBOT

got into bed and stretched luxuriously.
He switched off the light at the side
of the bed and closed his eyes. In a
few minutes he was asleep.

How long he slept he didn’t know.
Some subtle sixth sense warned him of
danger and he found himself sitting up-
right in bed, staring into the darkness of
the room, listening with straining ears
for the sound that had awakened him.

The house was silent; but an instant
later Rick’s flesh crawled as the quiet
darkness was shattered by a high-
pitched scream of mortal horror.

CHAPTER V

sprang out of bed and snapped
on the lamp; he shoved his feet
into shoes, jerked his trousers on over
his pajamas and stepped into the cor-
ridor.

Doctor Farrel was just emerging
from his room, fully clothed. There
was a dazed, helpless look on his face
as he stared at Rick.

“Rita!” he gasped feebly.

Ho Agar, the Martian, appeared
in the doorway of his room. He looked
as if he’d been sleeping, but his eyes
were alert.

“The scream came from below,” he
said crisply. “Let’s go down.”

Rick followed him down the steps at
a reckless run. When they reached the
second floor, Ho Agar strode along the
corridor to Rita’s room. One glance
told them an instant and terrible story.

The door was smashed open and was
hanging crazily on one hinge. There
was a hole in the center panel that could
have been made only by a heavy
bludgeon. Inside, the room was in wild
disorder. Bedclothes were strewn
about the floor, a chest of drawers had
been hurled on its side, and the room
was empty of life.

Rick felt a tightening in his chest as

he stared dazedly at the smashed room.
Rita’s slippers and robe were lying on
a chair, mule evidence that she had
not left the room of her own will. Ho
Agar touched his arm and pointed to the
floor, to great gouged imprints that had
been ripped and splintered in the wood.

“Those marks were made by the
metal stumps of a robot,” he said
ten.sely. His fingers tightened on Rick’s
arm. “There’s not a second to lose.
One of the robots has gone berserk and
taken Rita. We’ve got to find her be-
fore—”

Doctor Farrel appeared at the door,
his eyes glazed with terror.

“WTere is my daughter?” he cried
wildly. He shoved past Rick into the
room and stared in horror at the
smashed room, the torn bedclothes.

“We don’t know yet,” Ho Agar said,
“but we’ll find her. I’m sure.”

He drew Rick into the corridor.

“There are weapons downstairs,” he
said. “We must start the search im-
mediately. We won’t wait for the
others.”

Downstairs, in the lounge, Ho Agar
took two powerful ray-rifles from a
cabinet and handed one to Rick.

“They’re loaded with maximum
charges and will melt anything within
fifty yards,” he said.

They strode into the main corridor.
The front door of the structure, a solid
oaken timber three inches thick had
been torn completely from its frame and
was lying in a crushed, splintered heap
on tile floor.

Ho Agar grabbed two coats from a
closet off the main corridor and handed
one to Rick.

“W’e’ll need these,” he shouted over
the roar of the storm, which was whip-
ping in through the open doorway.
Outside, the ground was ankle-deep
with rushing rivulets and the wind
lashed at their faces like stinging

AMAZING STORIES

whips. Ho Agar bent low against the
force of the storm and ran across the
compound to a small steel hut built at
the base of the mooring tower.

UNLOCKED the door and the
wind snapped it open with a shat-
tering bang. Rick had followed him
across the compound and when he
reached the steel hut, Ho Agar was
emerging, carrying in his hands two
phosphorous lamps, whose brilliant rays
cut through the murk of the storm for
hundreds of yards.

He handed one to Rick, then, shout-
ing to make himself heard, he said,
“Follow me. There are not many
places a robot could hide in this area.”

Rick nodded and set out after Ho
Agar. He carried his rifle in the crook
of his left arm and the lamp in his right.
The glaring white rays of the latter
danced ahead of him for dozens of
yards, but there was nothing in its
range but the lashing storm and puddled
ground.

Ho Agar circled the great steel struc-
ture housing the robot assembly line
and set out for the rocky wastes that
surrounded the Earth-Mars base.

They struggled through ravines,
waist-deep in surging water, clambered
to the tops of slopes, where their pow-
erful lamps illuminated the surround-
ing territory for hundreds of yards, then
plunged on again, making a great, ever-
widening circle about the base.

It was the lightning that eventually
showed them their quarry. They were
standing on the top of a slope, feet
braced against the buffeting power of
the storm, when a brilliant fork of light-
ning flashed over their heads; and by its
searing light Rick saw a grotesque metal
figure a few hundred yards from them,
staggering crazily over the rutted,
craggy ground. And in the creature’s
extended arms was Rita Farrel, still.

white and pitifully small against the
metal bulk of her captor, her dark
hair streaming in the wind.

Rick grabbed Ho Agar’s arm and
pointed; but before the Martian could
turn, the glare had faded and the
darkness seemed intensified.

“Follow me!” Rick shouted.

He plunged down the slope, into a
shallow valley that was half full of
water, fought his way against the cur-
rent and started across the uneven
ground on the other side with all the
speed, he could force from his aching
legs and laboring lungs.

He tripped and sprawled headlong
half a dozen times; and he couldn’t be
sure he was heading in the right direc-
tion, or that the robot hadn’t changed
his route; but he kept going, forcing one
leg in front of the other, straining his
eyes into the swirling blackness of the
storm for some glimpse of the robot
or the girl.

He had lost his lamp, and had left
Ho Agar behind, but he drove on into
the darkness, sobbing for breath and
cursing the rutted, uneven ground that
seemed to be working against him with
diabolical purpose.

Another burst of lightning showed
him nothing but the ragged terrain,
stretching endlessly before him like
some nightmare view of Hell.

T_TE STOPPED for an instant, his
breath coming raggedly, and tried
to think. He might be hundreds of
yards off his course. Any of the falls he
had taken might have set him off in the
wrong direction; or the robot might
have circled, or changed its direction
after he had first sighted it.

But he couldn’t stop now. There
was a chance, growing slimmer each
second, that the robot was still ahead
of him, so he had to keep on moving
forward.

THE MAD ROBOT

He was at the base of a small slope
when he started moving again, driving
himself up with legs that ached and
trembled. A few feet from the top of
the slope he heard a noise directly
ahead, and that same instant a brilliant
fork of lightning ripped apart the dark-
ness.

By Its hirid light, Rick saw a great
robot facing him from the top of the
.slope like .some wild barbaric beast, its
metal body gleaming in the light, its
tremendous metal hands reaching
toward him, hngers opening and closing
convulsively.

The robot moved toward him. Rick
tried to swing his gun into position
but before he could do so the robot’s
great arm lashed out with the force of
a battering ram, striking him on the
shoulder and hurling him backward as
if he’d been a toy doll.

He rolled down the rocky slope and
the gun slipped from his hand and
clattered to the base of the hill. His
.shoulder ached terribly and his whole
side was gradually numbing from the ef-
fect of the robot’s savage blow.

He crawled to his feet at the bottom
of the slope and he heard the great
metal feet of the robot plunging down
the hill, powdering the rocky surface
with their weight.

Blinded by pain and stunned by the
blow he had received, Rick staggered
back from the charging robot, but his
foot caught on a rock and he sprawled
helplessly to the ground. He started
to crawd to his feet, but he felt a slim,
metal surface under his hand and he
realized with a sudden wild hope that
he had found the ray-rifle he had
dropped.

The robot was only a dozen feet
away, groping toward him, his gleam-
ing metal body shining faintly in the
blackness, when Rick snapped the rifle
to his shoulder and fired four murderous

blasts as fast as he could trigger the
weapon.

The smoking blue beams of energy
struck out from the muzzle of the gun
like flaming lances and Rick saw the
body of the robot suddenly transformed
into a shapeless mass of molten metal.
There was the acrid smell of disin-
tegrating steel in the air for an instant
and then the body of the robot crashed
to the rocky ground, arms and legs flail-
ing in a last desperate convulsion.

Rick carefully circled the destroyed
creature and struggled to the top of the
slope. He found the girl lying beside
a great boulder. Her eyes were closed
but he saw that .she was still breathing.

The flimsy nightdress she was wear-
ing was wet and tattered and her face
was blue with cold.

Rick removed his own coat and
wrapped it about the unconscious girl,
then he lifted her in his arms and started
down the slope.

At the base of the slope he saw a
phosphorous light in the distance com-
ing in his direction, and a few seconds
later Ho Agar appeared, drenched and
muddy, his face anxious.

He glanced quickly at the girl in
Rick’s arms, then felt her pulse.

“She’s ail right,” he said. “Nothing
but shock and exposure. Where is the
robot?”

Rick nodded toward the shapele.ss
mass of twisted metal and Ho Agar
swung his light on the molten remains
of the robot. He moved to the side of
the creature and removed a metal iden-
tification plaque from one of the arms.

He read the numerals and then
glanced at Rick, an ironic smile on his
face.

“This was 18435,” he said quietly.
“The model of industry we saw working
so perfectly earlier today.” He
shrugged and tossed the metal plaque
to the ground. “After this,” he said,

AMAZING STORIES

his eyes bitter, “we can never be
sure.’^

CHAPTER VI

“J CAN’T understand it,” Doctor
Farrel said, for the dozenth time.
“I can’t understand it.” He was sitting
in his office and his eyes were glazed
and unseeing. “Robot 18435 has been
operating perfectly for three and a half
years. I can’t understand this thing
tonight.”

Rick sipped his hot drink and pulled
the blanket about his shoulders closer
to his body. Ho Agar and Hawkins
were seated on the opposite side of the
room. The girl had been sleeping for
an hour, now, under the effects of a
powerful sedative her father had given
her.

“You might understand,” he said
dryly, “if you’d been with me when
that wild monster started charging.”
He shook his head and took another sip
from his drink. “You know your
work, Doctor, but if 18435 is as close
as you can come to perfection in the
creation of robots, you’d better stop
trying.”

“I’ll never stop trying,” the doctor
said fiercely. His hand closed over a
paper on his desk and crushed it to
a shapeless ball. He glared at Rick.
“There was something wrong with that
robot, but we’ll find the trouble and
remedy it if it takes us the rest of our
lives.”

“It may take everyone’s life,” Rick
said pointedly. “Doesn’t the fact that
your own daughter was almost killed
by one of your imperfect creations con-
vince you that you’re tinkering with
dynamite?”

“I recognize no personal element in
this incident,” Doctor Farrel said
coldly. “The fact tliat Rita was en-
dangered is no more significant from a

scientific viewpoint than if it had been
an absolute stranger.”

Ho Agar cleared his throat as a prel»
ude to diplomacy.

“We all admire your zeal, Doctor
Farrel,” he said. “But our results are
becoming more negative with each pass-
ing month. Within a very short time
my superiors are going to ask me for a
complete report on my work here, and if
I tell them the truth they will, I am sure,
withdraw their support from this
activity. No one will regret this more
than I, but my regret does not alter
the facts.”

“I don’t give a damn if everybody
walks out on me,” Doctor Farrel
snarled. “This thing tonight doesn’t
prove a thing; it’s just one case in a mil-
lion.”

“I’d say one case in a million is too
many,” Rick said.

Hawkins looked up at him and Rick
saw that his swarthy face was flushed
with anger.

“You’re a hero now,” he said bit-
terly, “So you feel you’ve got a right
to shoot you’re mouth off about things
here you don’t know a damn thing
about.” He stood up and his lips were
twisted in a sneer. “Well, I, for one,
don’t have to sit around and listen.
I’ve got two legs and I can leave when
I want to.”

Rick grinned thinly at the swarthy
maintenance chief. He was fed-up with
Hawkins' attitude and he was deter-
mined to be pushed no further.

“You’ve got a lot of teeth, also,”
he said gently, “but if you continue to
annoy me, you may find a few of them
missing.”

Hawkins glared at him and, for an
instant, Rick thought the man was
going to lunge at him. His fists were
clenched at his sides and his face was
black with hate. But Hawkins held Ids
anger with an obvious effort, turned

THE MAD ROBOT

and strode from the office.

Rick relaxed and sipped his drink.
He couldn’t fij^ure Hawkins out. The
man was no coward, he’d bet on that,
and he didn’t seem to be a fool. \Vith
a slight shrug he dismissed the mat-
ter. A show-down was coming be-
tween Hawkins and himself, but worry-
ing about it wouldn’t help.

“I think,” Ho .Agar said, “that you
had better try and get some sleep,
Rick.” He smiled faintly. “You’ve
had a busy night.”

“That’s a good idea,” Rick said . .

ILTE SLEPT late the next morning,
then, after breakfast, he went up
to see Rita Farrel. She was lying in
bed, and except for the pallor of her
skin and the purple shadows under
her eyes she looked fairly well.

She greeted Rick wdth a smile, but as
he sat on the edge of the bed and took
her small hand in his, she stopped smil-
ing and her face became serious.

“Ho .Agar told me about last night,”
.she said, “and there’s nothing I can .say
to tell you how grateful I, am.”

Rick patted her hand gently and
smiled.

“Let’s forget all about it,” he said.
“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good,” .she said, “I— Rick,
there’s something I want to ask you.”
Her eyes met his directly and her face
was grave. “I feel that you’re my
friend and 1 think you’ll be honest
with me. Ho you think my father has
any right to go on with his experiments
after last night?”

Rick had been afraid she might ask
him that, and he’d hoped she wouldn’t.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” he said.

“No, but don’t change the subject.”

Rick lit a cigarette slowly.

“I’m no scientist,” he said finally.
“I don’t pretend to understand your
father’s theory, but 1 know it ap-

parently works in some cases, and in
some it doesn’t. No\v, if these imper-
fections were simply mechanical, if the
robots would, for instance, get out of
gear and fail to .perform their work as
they should, it wouldn’t be so serious.
-Any machine can break down, and gen-
erally it can be fixed.” He paused and
blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceil-
ing and then shook his head. “These
imperfections, as I see it, aren’t
mechanical. They’re mental. And
they take violent, homicidal turns.
I don’t think civilization would
ever want to take the chance of
using robots that might break down
and go on a rampage like that one did
last night. So unless your father has
some absolute cure figured out, I think
he is endangering the lives of everyone
at this base, by continuing to operate
the robots. I think they should all be
disassembled until he has a perfect
theory devised.”

The girl had turned her face on the
pillow as he spoke and now she said. “E
was afraid you were going to say that,
Rick. I realize how right you are, but,”
she turned to him again beseech-
ingly, “won’t you let him work along
for a while longer? Your influence
because of last night has grown enor-
mously with the men. I know Moran
is thinking of leaving and two of the
engineers have threatened to quit.
This means so much to Father that
it w'ould kill him if he were forced to
stop now. I don’t want you to do
anything actively, but if you can help
him, in any small way, I’d appreciate
it more than you could ever know.”

Rick grinned down at the girl and
there was admiration in his eyes.

“You’re certainly game,” he said.
“I think, however, you overestimate
my influence around here. But if I
can help 1 will. Frankly, I don’t like
the idea, but your say-.so is good

AMAZING STORIES

enough for me.”

He stood up and smoothed the soft
hair back from her forehead. “I’m a
sucker for a beautiful smile,” he said.
“Now you’d better try and rest.”

|_JE LEFT the room and went down-
stairs. Ho Agar was alone.

“There’s something I want you to do
for me, if you will,” Rick said.

“If I can,” Ho Agar said.

“I’d like to spend tonight in the robot
assembly laboratory,” Rick said.
“That’s where the trouble started last
night, and I’d like to be on hand tonight,
in case there’s a repetition. Chances
are there won’t be, but I want to be
there just in case. Can \mu fix it?”

“Why, yes,” Ho Agar said slowly.
He looked at Rick and there was a
puzxled uncertainty in his eyes. “I
hope you know what you’re doing,
Rick. It might be very dangerous.”

'T know,” Rick said, “but I’m play-
ing a hunch.”

“Do you want the others to know?”

Rick shook his head. “I’ll turn in
early and slip out later.”

“AH right,” Ho Agar said, “I’ll ar-
range everything.” He shook his head
somberly. “But I don’t like it. If any-
thing went wrong I’d feel personally re-
sponsible. Supposing one of those ro-
bots went mad and attacked you? You
wouldn’t have a chance of getting out
of that plant alive!”

“Maybe not,” Rick said, “but on the
other hand, I may find out something
about what causes these break-downs.
The chance is worth taking.”

Ho Agar argued no further. He in-
clined his head slightly. “I will arrange
e\’erything, Rick.”

CHAPTER VII

'^HE robot assembly factory was
dark except for infrequently

placed phosphorous lamps, which cast
a flickering illumination over the mile-
long rows of tireless metal workers.
There was no sound in the plant but the
rasping jar of metal and the hum of
machinery; no human voices, no laugh-
ter. Seen in the weird glow of the
phosphorous lamps, the vast assembly
lines looked like a futuristic concept of
Hell

There was onl^^ one huntan being in
the entire factory. Rick had been let
into the plant shortly after dark by Ho
Agar. He had walked up and down the
line of robot workers for an hour or so,
but their conduct had been exemplary.
Now he was standing in the shadow^ of
great turbine and from that position he
could command a view of the entire
factory. He was beginning to feel that
he had been foolish in taking the tliou-
sand-to-one chance that some trouble
might develop here tonight. From wLat
he had learned, the occasions when a
robot had gone on the destructive war-
path were few' and far between. And he
was wondering w'hat good it wmiild do if
he did happen to be on hand wdien one
of the robots w'ent mad. If Doctor Par-
rel and Ho Agar couldn’t correct the
trouble, what could he hope to do?

He was idly watching the nearest
group of robots, about fifty yards
from him, while these thoughts were
running through his head. Tdiere was
one that was easily two feet taller
than the others, for he had been con-
structed to w'ork on an upper carriage
of the line where height was essential
This robot w'as a giant, almost eight feet
tall and probably weighing eight or nine
hundred pounds.

Rick was watching this mighty crea-
ture perform his methodical task again
and again with untiring strength and
skill, and the sight w'as magnificent.
The fluid, effortless flow of energy that
motivated the great robot, the tireless

THE MAD ROBOT

precision of its work and its almost
unimaginable pov/er were testimonials
to the genius of Doctor Farrel. Watch-
ing the mighty machine creature, Rick
was forced to realize the tremendous
importance of the doctor’s work. If
creatures like this, perfect in every de-
tail, could ever be produced satis-
factorily, civilization would advance in
one giant stride to the millennium.

But suddenly his muscles tensed; the
cigarette in his hand dropped to the
floor.

For the giant robot had stopped work,
was turning slowly, purposefully, away
from its position in the line.

Rick was deep in the shadows cast by
the turbine and he knew he was beyond
the range of the robot’s vision; but he
watched tensely as the giant creature
moved slowly toward him, its great
hands extended gropingly.

O ICK backed into the deeper shad-
ows formed by the corner of the
wall and the turbine, but as the robot
continued to advance, he realized with
sudden sharp horror that he was cut
off from any escape, for he had trapped
himself in the angle of the corner.

He cursed the thoughtlessness that
had prevented him from bringing a ray-
rifle; he was completely unarmed, with
nothing but his bare fists to oppose the
giant robot, should the mighty creature
attack.

The robot was still advancing, its
heavy feet striking the concrete floor
with shattering force. And Rick knew
then that the creature had seen him, and
was closing in on him with deliberate
purpose.

He had waited too long. Had he
moved the instant the creature left the
line he could have gotten out of the
corner, but it was too late for that now.
He moved tentatively to the left, but
the robot moved sideways with in-

credible speed, blocking off his attempt.

There was no doubt now of the ro-
bot’s motive.

Rick could feel the hard desperate
hammering of his heart as he backed
another few feet from the robot’s ad-
vance; but his shoulders touched the
wall and he knew he was trapped. He
risked a desperate glance over his head,
but he saw that the turbine extended
a full thirty feet in the air, and its
sides were smooth steel, offering not the
slightest handhold.

He wheeled back to the robot. The
creature was only a few dozen feet
away, and moving closer with each
passing second.

Rick felt a desperate helplessness.
There wasn’t one thing he could do to
save himself. His fists would be ridic-
ulously impotent against the steel
power of the giant robot.

But then, from the corner of his eye,
he saw that another robot had left his
place at the line and was losing rapidly
in on the advancing giant monster.

Rick watched the second robot
breathlessly. Was it coming to the aid
of the giant creature? Or was it going
to attack it from the rear?

His question was answered an in-
stant later as the second robot hurled
its bulk at the unprotected back of the
giant monster, toppling it to the floor
with a mighty crash.

The two creatures rolled wildly on
the concrete floor, their steel-thewed
arms and legs threshing convulsively.
The Herculean combat was madly gro-
tesque. No sound came from the
locked monsters, except the harsh rasp
of steel on steel.

Rick backed away from the titanic
encounter, as gradually the superior
weight of the first giant robot forced
the other into helplessness. Astride
the second robot, its greater weight
pinning it to the floor, the giant mon-

AMAZING STORIES

ster’s huge, battering fists began to
pound into its sides with sledge-hammer
force.

Rick watched with fascinated terror
as the steel sides of the smaller robot
began to bend under the terrific maul-
ing. Fora moment he was paralyzed by
the horrible savagery of the giant fea-
ture’s attack; then he leaped into
action. He knew he might be sacrificed
himself, but he couldn’t stand help-
lessly by while the robot that had tried
to save him was being pounded into a
twisted, shapeless mass of metal.

J’'HE giant robot’s back was to him,
and Rick lunged for the control
panel that was riveted just below the
creature’s right shoulder. His des-
perate fingers had clawed the steel
screen away before the giant robot
realized that another antagonist had en-
tered the struggle.

Rick jerked the screen aside and just
as his hand plunged into the delicate
wire apparatus that controlled the
robot’s actions, a great steel hand
closed over his throat.

His breath stopped with a gasp, and
he felt a cloud of blackness sweeping
over him. With his last atom of
strength his hand closed over the mesh-
work o-f filament in the robot’s control
section and, as he fell to the floor, his
tensed fingers jerked the finely spun
wires loose from their connecting rods.

He remembered striking the floor,
and the feel of steel fingers about his
neck, and then he passed out. How
long he remained unconscious, he never
knew, but when he finally raised his
head and pulled himself to a sitting posi-
tion, he saw that the giant robot was
lying motionlessly on its side, and that
the smaller robot who had saved him
was standing erect.

Rick stood up with an effort. He
glanced at the identification tag of the

standing robot and read the numerals
161. He felt his bruised throat and
swallowed painfully, then turned to
Robot 161. The robot’s sides were
pounded out of shape in several places
but it looked as if it were still in a
functioning condition.

“You can go back to work, 161,” he
said.

The robot turned slowly, moved back
to its place on the assembly line and
resumed its work. Rick watched it
for an instant and then he walked
toward the exit door of the plant.
There was a grim set to his jaw and
his eyes were hard. He knew, now, that
Doctor Parrel’s robots did not go ber-
serk without reason. Someone was de-
liberately seeing to it that they went
mad. And that person had tried to
have him destroyed. For he realized
that the giant robot that had attacked
him had not done so accidentally.

It had been ordered to kill him!

CHAPTER VIII

J^ICK went directly to Ho Agar’s
room and entered without knock-
ing. The Martian looked up from the
book he was reading and his yellow
eyes regarded Rick with surprise.

“What’s the matter?” he asked anx-
iously, putting the book down and ris-
ing to his feet. “I thought you were
going to spend the night at the plant.”

Rick told him quickly what had
happened. Ho Agar listened intently,
his face serious.

‘T was afraid something like that
might happen,” he said. He frowned
thoughtfully. “Did you get the iden-
tification number of the robot who came
to your assistance?”

Rick nodded. “It was 161. And I’m
convinced that the attack of the giant
robot was not accidental. I’m sure that
he was ordered to kill me by someone

THE MAD ROBOT

here at the base.”

Ho Agar pursed his lips and drew
a slow breath through his teeth.

“What makes you believe that,
Rick?” he asked.

“That creature was looking for me,”
Rick said flatly. “Maybe not me, per-
sonally, but it was after a human being.
I was hidden in the shadows; it couldn’t
possibly have seen me when it left its
place on the line, yet it headed directly
for me. Furthermore I’m convinced,
now, that Doctor Farrel’s robots are all
right, but that someone is deliberately
making them appear to be imperfect,
untrustworthy monsters. Now, here’s
what I want you to tell me; could
someone operate the robots by a system
of remote control?”

“Why, of course,” Ho Agar said. His
eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Doctor
Farrel developed a wireless system of
communication that would direct the
robot from distances of several miles.
He worked on it quite extensively be-
fore you arrived but I haven’t heard
him mention it lately. I don’t even
know where the apparatus is now.”

“I think,” Rick said grimly, “that we
may be getting warm. Do you think
we could manage to search the doctor’s
quarters without his knowing it?”

“We could right now,” Ho Agar
said quickly. “He told me he intended
to spend the night working in his office.
His rooms are just a few doors from
here, you know.”

“Let’s take a look,” Rick said. “I
hope we don’t find anything, but we
can’t overlook the chance.”

Ho Agar picked up a small flashlight
and stuck a ray-revolver in his belt.

“If you’re thinking what I am,” he
said tightly, “we may need a weapon
before this night is over.”

'^HEY went quickly to Doctor Far-
rel’s room, opened the door and

stepped inside. Rick snapped the
lights on and glanced about. The room
was in perfect order. The doctor’s
small desk was neat and bare. There
were only a few letters and some pic-
tures of himself and Rita on its clean
surface. Rick winced inwardly as he
saw the picture of Rita. It had been
taken outdoors, and a wind was blow-
ing the hair about her face. She was
laughing, her teeth incredibly white
against the tan of her face. He thought
what would happen to that smile if his
suspicions of her father were correct,
and the thought brought him an instant
of bleak misery.

But he couldn’t let anything personal
interfere with his work here. There
had been times when he came near to
forgetting that he was at this base under
orders to investigate anything irregular
or suspicious. He couldn’t let himself
forget that he had a job to do, and that
Captain Wilson was depending on him.

Ho Agar had rummaged through
bureau drawers and now he turned to
the closet. His low, excited voice called
Rick a moment later.

“Come here. I think I’ve found what
we’re looking for,” he said.

Rick stepped into the closet and saw
that Ho Agar had moved aside a picture
that exposed a small, steel cabinet.
When he opened the steel door Rick
saw a control panel, covered with rheo-
stats and gauges.

Ho Agar studied the apparatus in-
tently. Rick watched him in silence.

“This is it,” the Martian said finally.
“It’s the same panel the doctor built
before you arrived. With it he can con-
trol the activity of every robot in his
plant.”

Rick stared at the equipment with
hard, angry eyes.

“The man hasn’t got a streak of
human decency in his body,” he said
harshly. “He deliberately sacrificed his

AMAZING STORIES

daughter’s safety to one of his robots,
that was acting under his orders.”

“We mustn’t jump to conclusions,”
Ho Agar said quietly. “The existence
of this apparatus is not conclusive proof
that the doctor is responsible for the
crimes of the robots. In itself, it proves
nothing. After all, Doctor Farrel has
a perfect right to install this control
panel in his room, and possibly he hasn’t
been the one using it. Or there may
be another such panel on the base, al-
though the possibility of that is slight.”

He closed the steel door and put the
picture back in place.

“I think,” he said, “that we had bet-
ter wait until we discover more definite
proof of his guilt before we say any-
thing about this.”

He stepped from the closet a.s he was
speaking and walked to the doctor’s
desk. He glanced through the letters
there, tossed them down and then lifted
desk blotter. A single sheet of paper
was lying beneath the blotter. He
picked it up and read it carefully.
Finally he handed it to Rick.

“This,” he said, “explains much of
what has been going on here at the
base.”

O ICK read the letter. It was ad-
dressed to the doctor, but was hot
signed. However, the writer, the repre-
sentative of a group of financiers on
Earth, was not subtle in stating the
purpose of his letter. For an unspeci-
fied, but evidently a large sum of money,
the doctor was asked to stall the pro-
duction of robots on Jupiter until the
Earth authorities lost interest and
abandoned the project.

Rick glanced from the letter to Ho
Agar and his eyes were bitterly hard.

“I think this is all we need,” he said.
“There is no longer any doubt in my
mind that the doctor has been respon-
sible for the imperfect operation of the

robots all along. I haven’t mentioned
this to anyone before, but I was sent
here by the Earth authorities to investi-
gate the situation.”

Ho Agar regarded him with surprise.

“You have kept your mission well
cloaked,” he said.

“It was necessary,” Rick said. “But
now I intend to inform Earth imme-
diately of Doctor Farrel’s treachery.
And I shall also tell them that they can
plan to begin mass production of robots
at their earliest convenience. That new's
should please your government too, Ho
Agar.”

“They will be gratified,” Ho Agar
said.

Rick was placing the letter on the
desk when they heard heavy, jarring
footsteps in the corridor and a second
later the door was flung open and a
robot moved into the room.

Ho Agar dropped back a pace and
drew the ray weapon from his belt,
but Rick caught his arm before he could
fire.

“Wait!” he snapped.

The robot that stood motionless in
the doorway was numbered 161, the
same robot who had saved him in the
plant from the attack of the giant mon-
ster. He recognized it easily from its
battered, dented sides.

Hp Agar jerked his hand loose from
Rick’s grip.

“We can’t take a chance,” he said.
“This robot may have been sent here by
the doctor to destroy us.”

“I don’t think so,” Rick said. “This
is 161, the robot who saved my life.
And it doesn’t seem to have any violent
intentions.”

The robot lumbered forward slowly,
its arms at its sides. When it reached
the desk it pointed clumsily at a pic-
ture of the doctor and shook its head
slowly.

“What does it mean?” Rick said to

THE MAD ROBOT

Ho Agar. He stared in bewilderment at
the robot, as it pointed again to the
doctor’s picture and shook its head
again, more emphatically this time.

“I don’t know,” Ho Agar said. He
turned to the robot and said, “Return
to your work, 161.”

But the robot made no move to obey.
Ho Agar raised his gun.

“We can’t take any chances,” he said
grimly. “When these creatures refuse
to obey, there’s only one thing to do.”

^HERE was suddenly another step
in the corridor and Doctor Farrel
appeared in the doorway, a gun in his
hand. His eyes shifted about the room.

“What’s going on here?” he cried.

He raised his gun and covered the en-
tire group. “Don’t anyone make a move
until we get this thing settled.”

Ho Agar moved suddenly to one side
and his hand flicked out to the light
switch, plunging the room into dark-
ness. Blue bolts of energy stabbed
across the blackness and Rick heard
the doctor scream in agony.

Rick dropped to the floor. He saw
the steel body of Robert 161 suddenly
glow a cherry red, as blue blasts of
energy raked across it, transforming it
to a crumbling mass of molten metal.

Ho Agar said, “Are you all right.
Rick?”

“Yes,” Rick said.

The lights went on again and Rick
saw that the doctor was lying in the
doorway with two black holes in his
forehead. The gun had fallen from his
hand, a few inches from his distended
fingers. Robot 161 was sprawled in a
motionless heap on the floor, but as
Rick watched its metal fingers began
to move with agonizing slowness as
they scratched the numeral 4 into the
wooden surface of the floor.

Ho Agar was staring at the doctor’s
still form and there was a tight bitter

set to his lips.

“I had to do it,” he muttered. “It
was the only thing I could do.”

Rick nodded soberly and then he
glanced back at the cryptic numeral 4
which Robot 161 had scratched into the
flooring with its last energy.

His eyes were puzzled and thought-
ful.

CHAPTER IX

'^^WO days later he talked to Rita
Farrel for the first time since her
father’s death. She was sitting at the
window of the lounge when he entered.

He said, “I want to talk to you for
a moment, Rita.”

She stood up and started for the door,
but he moved his position and put his
arm across the opening. “Please,” he
said.

She stared at him and her eyes were
dark and heavy in the fragile white-
ness of her face. There was no feeling
or emotion for him in her expression,
not even anger or hate. Her eyes were
tired and indifferent.

“You can keep me here by force, I
suppose,” she said evenly, “but I don’t
see any point to that. There is nothing
for us to talk about.”

“You hate me because I was involved
in your father’s death,” Rick said. “I
don’t blame you. I regret that it hap-
pened as it did. But there wasn’t any-
thing else Ho Agar could do.”

“I see,” Rita said. Her face and
voice were empty of feeling. “Is that
all you wanted to tell me? If you’re
through, I’d like to go to my room.”

Rick felt a baffled feeling of exaspera-
tion at the girl’s stony calmness.

“You can go to your room when I’m
through talking,” he said harshly.
“You can’t go on like this, Rita. You
haven’t eaten or slept in two days.
The trouble here i.= over, you’ve got tn

AMAZING STORIES

realize that and stop nursing a grudge
against everybody. I know how
deeply you loved your father and I
realize he was probably kind and won-
derful to you. But that doesn’t alter
the fact that the evidence indicates he
was a traitor to Earth.”

Rita turned from him blindly, her
face twisted with pain. She put a hand
weakly to her forehead and said, “NOI
He couldn’t have been a traitor! I — I
won’t believe that.”

Rick took her hands and suddenly
she was in his arras and he could feel
the sobs that shook her slim shoulders.

■‘Oh, Rick, you didn’t know him! No
one really knew him,” she cried.

Rick was silent until she stopped
crying, then he patted her shoulders
gently. “It’s all right, honey; you’ll
feel better now.”

She moved away from him and he
gave her his handkerchief.

“Will you talk to me for a few min-
utes now?” he asked.

CHE nodded and he led her to the
divan before the fire. He lit two
cigarettes, handed one to her and then
shifted about to face her squarely.

“Please listen carefully,” he said. “I
said the evidence indicated that your
father might have been a traitor. But
that evidence is all circumstantial . Y ou
were closer to your father than anyone
else, and I think maybe you know
something that would explain his
actions. Can you remember his speak-
ing of an offer from a group of financiers
on Earth who wanted him to sabotage
the production of robot life?”

Rita shook her head distractedly.

“Of course not, Rick,” she said.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing in the
whole set-up. Father would have sacri-
ficed his own life before allowing any-
thing to interfere with the robot plant.
And here’s another thing, Rick: those

robots couldn’t have done these terrible
things on Father’s orders because they
are designed only to work. They would
never attack a human being under any-
one’s orders. Father realized in later
years they might be used as soldiers, so
he designed them to do only creative
work.”

“But one of them attacked you,”
Rick said.

“I know, I ]:now,” Rita said help-
lessly. “But there must be some other
explanation for that. Father’s robots
wouldn’t attack anyone, even under his
orders. He tested them for that, hun-
dreds of times.”

Rick stared at the girl intently.

“Are you sure of what you’re say-
ing? You mean your father actually
tested these robots, ordered them to
attack human beings, and they re-
fused?”

“Yes,” Rita said emphatically.
“And he wasn’t satisfied with one test.
He tested each robot a number of
times.”

“I see,” Rick said. He looked
thoughtfully at the glowing tip of his
cigarette. He was still of the opinion
that Rita’s father had been mixed up in
the dirty business here, but a new idea
had occurred to him.

“The thing that has me puzzled,” he
said, frowning, “is the action of Robot
161. That robot saved my life in the
assembly plant, and when it came to
your father’s room it seemed to be try-
ing to tell me something. It pointed
to your father’s picture and then shook
its head. And after Ho Agar had
burned it down, it scratched a num-
ber 4 on the floor. I’ve stewed over
that until my head aches and I’ve gotten
nowhere. What possible significance
could the numeral 4 have in this busi-
ness? Can you think of anything?”

“No,” Rita said slowly, “I can’t.”

Rick heard a step in the corridor

THE MAD ROBOT

and, turning his head, he saw Ho Agar
appear in the doorway. The Martian
looked from the girl to Rick and said,
“I beg your pardon. I’ll come back
later.”

“Come on in,” Rick said, getting to
his feet. “Rita and I are through with
our discussion.”

girl stood up and left the room
without looking at Ho Agar. When
they were alone, the Martian shrugged
his shoulders helplessly.

“She hates me,” he said, and there
was a look of pain on his thin features.
“She thinks of me as her father’s mur-
derer. Her reaction is understandable
but that makes it no easier to bear.”

“I think she’ll get over it,” Rick said.
He lit another cigarette and flicked the
match into the fire. “By the way,” he
said abruptly, “have you had the com-
munication equipment repaired yet? I
should have been in contact with Earth
forty-eight hours ago. Strange that it
had to go on the blink just when I
needed it most.”

“It will be ready shortly, Rick,” Ho
Agar said. He looked thoughtfully at
the young Earthman. “Are you going
to report that Doctor Parrel’s robot ex-
periments were successful?”

“Why, of course,” Rick said, sur-
prised. “I told you that a couple of
days ago. We agreed it was pretty
obvious that the doctor had ordered the
robots to go on a destructive rampage.”

“Yes, I know,” Ho Agar said, “but I
wonder if the robots are ready yet for
export to Earth and Mars. It would be
a calamity if we were wrong in our
suppositions and innocently sent out a
group of imperfect robots.”

“But there are no imperfect robots,”
Rick said. “I’m convinced of that, now.
And I’m going to send that informa-
tion to Earth just as soon as possible.”

“Weil,” Ho Agar shrugged, “I sup-

pose that it is the best procedure.
There have been no disturbances in the
robot plant since the doctor’s death,
which seems fairly conclusive evidence
that he was responsible for their imper-
fect behavior.”

“When the communication set is re-
paired I want to get that message off im-
mediately,” Rick said. “Will you let
me know when it’s ready?”

“Of course,” Ho Agar said.

Rick left him, then, and went up to
change for dinner. When he came
down again, an hour or so later, Rita
was waiting for him in the lounge. She
had changed to a light, knee-length
dress and her hair was brushed back
from her forehead in clean, shining
waves.

“You look simply terrific,” Rick said,
smiling at her in admiration.

“Thanks, Rick,” she said. “I feel
better, too, since our talk. I realize
now that Father’s development of robot
life has been successfully accomplished,
and that’s all that really matters. He
wouldn’t have cared about what p>eopIe
thought, as long as his dream had been
realized. And I think that now, wher-
ever he is, he knew his work has been
successful and is happy.”

Rick looked at her, his face serious.

“You’re a very wonderful girl, Rita,”
he said quietly. “There aren’t many
who’d take that attitude and I’m proud
of you.”

Rita smiled and said, “You make me
sound a little awe-inspiring. I’m not
the type for a halo, you know. Let’s
change the subject. Ho Agar was here
a while ago, and he asked me to tell
you that the communication set isn’t
ready yet, but he expects to have it in
working order in another hour or so.”

Rick shook his head in irritation.

“Where did he go, do you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Rita said. She glanced
up as Moran, the chemist, and two other

AMAZING STORIES

workers entered the room. “Come in,
gentlemen,” she said. “Rick, here, is
on edge because he can’t send a mes-
sage through to Earth, so maybe you
can cheer him up.”

“I’m just the one for that,” Moran
said, smiling genially. He went over to
the sideboard and took up a bottle.
“I’ll fix you a drink that’ll take your
mind off everything.” He mixed several
drinks and passed them around. “And
what is this message that can’t wait
until after dinner?” he asked.

“It’s important,” Rick said. “I want
to inform Earth that Doctor Farrel’s
robots are in perfect working order and
that they can be exported to Earth im-
mediately.”

“No wonder you’re on edge,” Moran
said. “Good news like that can’t be
sent too quickly.”

Rick was raising his drink to his
mouth, when the door was flung open
and Hawkins charged into the room.
His dark features were flushed and his
eyes were snapping blackly.

“What’s up?” Rick asked.

Everyone in the room had turned to
stare at Hawkins. A tension came
over them as he stood in the doorway,
legs spread wide, and stared about with
hard, angry eyes.

“Hell to pay!” he snapped. “Two
more robots have just gone crazy.
They’re on a rampage!”

The shocked silence following
Hawkins’ announcement was broken by
a brittle, shattering sound as Rita Far-
rel’s glass slipped from her hand to the
floor.

CHAPTER X

O ICK stood stock-still for an instant,
frozen in rigid paralysis by
Hawkins’ words.

Moran said, “Well, I’ll be damned,”
in a slow, incredulous voice.

“We can’t just stand here,” Hawkins
said tersely. “I’m rounding up the men
and starting for the plant. You men
arm yourselves with ray rifles and fol-
low as soon as possible.”

He turned and left the room with
long, decisive strides.

Rick tossed his cigarette into the fire
and started for the doorway, but Rita
Farrel caught his arm before he had
taken three steps.

“Please, let me come with you, Rick.”
she said.

“No,” Rick said. “This is no job for
a girl. Don’t worry, we’ll be able to
handle it all right.”

Ho Agar appeared in the doorway
while Rick was talking to the girl, and
his eyebrows lifted questioningly as he
regarded the Earthman.

“Trouble?” he asked calmly.

Rick nodded. “More robots running
wild. Hawkins is taking the men down
to the plant now, to stop them.”

“I see,” Ho Agar said. He shook his
head slowly. “I’m afraid this destroys
my last hope of producing harmless
robot-life. Incidentally,” he added
ironically, “the communication set is re-
paired, but of course you can’t very
well send the message you intended.”

“No, I can’t,” Rick said grimly, “but
I’m going to send another equally as
important.”

“And that is . . . ?”

“I’m going to ask the Earth authori-
ties,” Rick said, “to send an official in-
vestigation committee here to get to the
bottom of this trouble. I’m convinced
now that there is something going on
that none of us understands.”

“I think you’re right,” Ho Agar said,
“but let’s attend to the imperfect robots
before we do anything else.”

“Rick,” Rita cried, “please let me
come along.”

“We may need every weapon at the
base before this is over,” Ho Agar said.

THE MAD ROBOT

dancing at Rick. “Miss Farrel is an
excellent shot. I think we had better
take her with us.”

Rick said, “Okay, get yourself a rifle.
I don’t like the idea but Ho Agar is
right. We may need you before we
get things under control.”

■p'lVE minutes later the three of them

had reached the entrance to the
robot plant. Hawkins was waiting out-
side with a group of armed men.

“We’re going in the front entrance,”
he said, when Rick, Ho Agar and Rita
arrived.

“Let me make a suggestion,” Ho
Agar said quickly. “Rick and Miss
Farrel and I will go in through the rear
entrance, the one that leads to the
brain laboratory. You men go in the
front and between us we’ll have the
robots caught in a cross-fire.”

“Okay,” Hawkins said, “but be care-
ful of your aim. We don’t want to
burn each other into cinders.”

Rick held Rita’s arm as they hurried
along the side of the robot plant be-
hind Ho Agar. The night was black
and occasionally they stumbled on the
rutted, hard ground.

“Watch your step,” Ho Agar called
from in front of them. “And keep
your weapons ready for use.”

They reached the end of the building
in about ten minutes. Rita’s breath
was coming hard, but she had kept up
with the stiff pace Ho Agar had set.

The Martian turned the corner of the
building and stopped before a solid steel
door, protected with a combination lock.
He worked silently in the darkness for
several moments, then swung the door
open and stepped through its black
opening.

“Follow me,” he said. “I’ll have a
light on in a moment.”

Rick moved cautiously into the
laboratory with Rita at his side. His

hands, extended gropingly before him
in the blackness, suddenly touched
someone.

“Ho Agar,” he said. “Is that you?”

There was no answer. Rick heard a
footstep on the hard floor and he could
dimly make out the outline of a man in
the darkness.

A flashing premonition shot through
him, and he stepped back quickly, but
the sixth sense warning had come too
late. He saw vaguely an arm swinging
down in the darkness and the next in-
stant a hard blunt object crashed with
stunning force into his forehead.

His knees buckled and he started to
fall. He fought against the curtain of
blackness that was drawing over his
consciousness, but it w'as no use. The
last sound he heard was Rita Parrel’s
high, piercing scream, but that faded
away too as his limp body struck the
floor. . . .

'\\7'HEN consciousness returned he
was aware of a light against the
lids of his eyes, and when he attempted
to move he realized he was strapped to
a chair in a sitting position. There
was an aching pain where he had been
struck on the forehead, and his stomach
felt restless.

He opened his eyes, raised his head
with a painful effort. Ho Agar was
standing before him, a faint mocking
smile brushing his lips.

“Ah!” he murmured, “I’m relieved
to see that you are yourself again.”

Rick stared at him stupidly. He
glanced dazedly about the steel-walled
laboratory and down at the leather
straps that bound him securely to the
chair; then he looked up at Ho Agar
agan, his brain reeling in helpless be-
wilderment.

“What’s this all about?” he said
thickly. He stared at the Martian’s
thin, mocking smile and he felt a sud-

AMAZING STORIES

den tight knot of terror in his breast.
“Where’s Rita?” he demanded, strug-
gling against the tight leather straps.

“Don’t waste your energy,” Ho Agar
said calmly. “I strapped you in that
chair myself and there’s no chance of
your getting loose. As for Rita,” he
smiled and stepped aside, “she also is —
ah— H:onfined.”

He pointed to the table on which
robots were secured while their brains
were being inserted.

Rita Farrel was lying on its steel sur-
face, helplessly bound. Iron clamps
held her ankles and wrists and her head
was secured in the padded jaws of the
giant vise. Her eyes were closed but
Rick could see -that she was breathing.

Hot, wild anger shot through him
and he twisted futilely against the
straps that held him and glared at Ho
Agar.

“If you hurt her I’ll tear you apart
with my bare hands! ” he raged. “You

“Please,” Ho Agar smiled. He sat
down comfortably and crossed his long
legs. “I have no intention of hurting
Miss Farrel. But I may be forced to, if
you do not cooperate.”

“What do you mean?” Rick said.

“I won’t keep you in suspense any
longer,” Ho Agar said. “As you have
probably guessed by now I have been
responsible for the imperfect operation
of the robot-life here on Jupiter. Poor
Doctor Farrel was an innocent, indus-
trious scientist and I found it a simple
matter to throw the blame on him. Now
I want you, my dear Rick, to send a
message to Earth. I have a communi-
cation set in this laboratory and I wish
you to inform your superiors that
Doctor Parrel’s robots are completely
out of hand, and that his theories and
robot designs are unfeasible. In short,
that the entire experiment here has been
a complete and dangerous failure.”

Rick stared at Ho Agar incredu-
lously. He couldn’t make his mind
absorb what the Martian was saying
so calmly.

“You were responsible for the robot
destruction here?” he finally said.

“Completely,” Ho Agar said quietly.
“My planet needs robot-life, Rick, and
it needs the processes and formulae of
Doctor Farrell; but we do not intend to
share robot production with Earth.
When we have the sole command of
robot production we will become the
leading planet of the Solar System.”
He smiled tightly. “Our relative posi-
tion in the Solar System is fourth, but
we will transform that, in a figurative
sense, to first and foremost, through the
power that Doctor Parrel’s robots will
bring us.”

t) ICK stared at Ho Agar with blazing
^ eyes.

“Mars, the fourth planet of the Sys-
tem!” he said bitterly. “That’s what
Robot 161 was trying to tell me. That
was what the numeral 4 meant. And
that’s why it came to the doctor’s room
that night and tried to prevent you from
murdering Doctor Farrel.”

Ho Agar nodded and smiled.

“Everything you say is quite true,”
he said. “I have only your stupidity
to thank for my continued success. At
first I was afraid you were going to
guess the truth, but like a typical sen-
timental Earthman, you were unable to
think of me as an enemy because I bad
posed as your friend. I knew from the
start that you were here as an investi-
gator. Martian Intelligence informed
me of that. I staged the kidnaping of
Miss Farrel, hoping that would con-
vince you of the unreliability of the
doctor's robots; but you allowed your
judgment to be blinded by Miss Par-
rel’s undeniably attractive charms. I
then had you attacked in the assembly

THE MAD ROBOT

plant, hoping to get you out of the way,
but the unfortunate intervention of
Robot 161 spoiled my plans. There
again your stupidity became my chief
asset. Had you been thinking clearly
you might have seen that I was the only
one who knew of your presence that
night at the robot plant, and therefore
was the only person who could have ar-
ranged the attack. But that point
escaped you. I didn’t want to take any
more chances so I showed you the ap-
paratus in the doctor’s room and then
shot him when he came in to investi-
gate the noises he had heard from be-
low. Robot 161 almost upset my plans,
but luck was with me and I put it out
of the way at the same time. Inciden-
tally,” Ho Agar said, smiling mockingly,
“it might interest you to know that the
brain which motivated Robot 161 was
taken from your friend whom we dis-
cussed here in this laboratory the day
you arrived. I am referring to your
comrade and fellow space-pilot, James
Haines.”

Jimmy Haines!

Rick felt a bitterness that was
deeper than any emotion he had ever
experienced in his life. He had no con-
scious thoughts; his brain was too numb
for that. There was only one idea in
his mind and it seemed to flow through
his entire body. And that was the
thought of getting his hands about Ho
Agar’s slender neck and choking the
rotten life from the man.

“I still don’t understand just how
Robot 161 was able to disregard my
orders,” Ho Agar said musingly. “You
see 161 was supposed to aid the giant
robot in killing you; instead 161 saved
you and destroyed the giant.”

O ICK was beginning to think again
with some calmness, and he re-
alized that his only chance was in keep-
ing Ho Agar talking until Hawkins

and his men subdued the rampaging
robots and got to the laboratory.

He forced a smile to his lips.

“You were pretty clever,” he said.
“And since you hold all the cards,
maybe you’ll tell me how you managed
to control the robots. I understand
they wouldn’t react to any but the work
commands for which they were con-
structed.”

“Absolutely right,” Ho Agar said,
smiling. “But fifty of the robots are
special products of mine. Each of these
special robots was equipped with two
brains. One brain was normal and di-
rected their activities at work. But
the second brain, which was separated
from the normal brain by a thin plastic
sheet, I took from a special stock of
demented, paranoic brains which were
secured for me from certain institutions
on Mars. When I needed a robot for
a — ah — demonstration, I simply sent an
electrical current from this laboratory
to two poles which I had already built
into the head of each special robot, and
the plastic protection sheet was burned
away, the normal brain destroyed, and
the creature began to move under the
direction of a paranoic brain which I
could control. It was really very
simple.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Rick said
evenly. “YouTl never get away with
this. Hawkins and the men are on their
way through the plant now. They’ll be
here any minute. You can kill me and
the girl but youTl never escape, your-
self, and Mars will never get the
formulae and theories of Doctor Far-
rel.”

“I beg to differ with you,” Ho Agar
said smoothly. He held up a slim band
and cocked his head in a listening atti-
tude. A contented smile appeared on
his features as the faint sounds of
mechanical clamor became audible.

“Hawkins and his brave men,” he

AMAZING STORIES

murmured, “entered the plant to burn
down two imperfect robots. That, at
least, was what they thought.”

TTE CHUCKLED and rubbed his
^ ^ slim hands together in a pleased
gesture. “Actually there are about
forty-five paranoic robots in the plant,
and I timed their eruption so it would
occur when Hawkins and his men were
in the center of the plant and unable
to escape to the front entrance.” He
listened again to the clamor that was
drifting faintly to their ears. “They
won’t have much chance against forty-
five robots, will they, Rick?”

“You cold-blooded murderer I” Rick
raged. “You’ve worked with those men
for four years and now you send them
to a horrible death without batting an
eyebrow.”

“Sentiment is a barbaric sort of ex-
pression,” Ho Agar said idly. He
shifted slightly in his chair and said,
“and now, Rick, since I have been so
obligingly verbose, I hope you will re-
pay the favor and send the message
I wish to Earth.”

“Supposing I tell you to go to hell?”
Rick said.

“That will gain you nothing,” Ho
Agar said. “And it might make Miss
Farrel’s next few minutes very uncom-
fortable.” He raised a slim hand as
Rick strained powerfully against his
bonds. “Oh, I am not thinking of tor-
turing her,” he said. “I think you
should credit me with more delicacy
than that. I shall, however, be forced
to anesthetize her and equip her with
a paranoic brain which came, I be-
lieve, from a degenerate IMarlian. I
wouldn’t like to do that, Rick, but I
don’t think I shall have to. I don’t
think you will sit there and watch me
perform an operation of that sort, when
two minutes at this communication set
will obviate that necessity.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Rick said
hoarsely.

“No?” Ho Agar smiled. “I think
you underestimate me. I am going to
give you just ten seconds to make up
your mind.”

“Supposing I do what you ask,” Rick
said. “What will you do to Rita then?”

Ho Agar shrugged. “I will probably
take her to Mars with me to assist in
the production of her father’s robot
units. But that doesn’t matter. Any-
thing, even death, would be preferable
to the operation and brain substitution
I propose to perform. I think you
can see that.”

Rita twisted slightly on the table and
Rick saw that her eyelids were open.

“I’ve heard everything, Rick,” she
said clearly. “Don’t send that message
to Earth. It doesn’t matter what hap-
pens to me. Please don’t send it.”

Ho Agar smiled and bowed mock-
ingly to the helpless girl.

“A splendid sentiment. Miss Farrel,”
he said; “but the decision is Rick’s.”
He turned back to Rick. “And what
shall your decision be, my dear Rick?”

“I’ll send the message,” Rick said
evenly.

“Excellent,” Ho Agar said.

He walked to the wall, pulled out a
portable space-communication set and
rolled it to the side of Rick’s chair,
within easy reach.

“I shall release your right arm,” he
said, “but I’d advise you not to do any-
thing foolish.”

He drew a ray-revolver from his belt,
then stopped and unbuckled the strap
that secured Rick’s right wrist. Step-
ping back a pace he pointed the gun at
Rick’s head and said, “Now go ahead.
1 am familiar with your code so don’t
think you can fool me with a fake
message.” He gestured impatiently
with the gun. “Get busy. There is not
too much time.”

THE MAD ROBOT

13 ICK reached for the key but at that
instant there was a sudden shat-
tering impact against the lab door and
its steel sides trembled under the ef-
fects of tremendous blows.

Ho Agar swung toward the door and
his eyes lost their calm triumph, as the
mighty steel door began to sag inward.

His features working with savage
terror, he wheeled back to Rick.

“Send that message, damn you!” he
blazed. His trigger finger whitened
with pressure as he stepped closer and
shoved the gun against Rick’s head.
“Send it!” he repeated, his voice a des-
perate whisper.

Suddenly the massive steel door
crashed inward and two mighty robots
staggered into the room. Behind them
was the swarthy figure of Hawkins, a
ray-revolver in his hand.

Ho Agar spun around, but before he
could pull the trigger of his gun Rick
swung down across his wrist with his
free hand, deflecting his aim. Hawkins
took in the situation with one hard
glance and then raised his gun and sent
three streaking bolts of energy into Ho
Agar’s body.

The Martian screamed horribly and
his face was a twisted mask of anguish
and rage as he toppled to the floor.
He fell on his side and for an instant
his eyes met Rick’s, and there was an
insane gleam in their depths that was
like a glimpse into the pits of Hell. And
then the light faded in his eyes forever
and he rolled limply to his back.

Hawkins crossed to Rick’s side and
released him, then the two men freed
the girl. She clung to Rick, sobbing,
when he lifted her from the steel table,
but after a moment she smiled weakly.

“Sorry,” she said. “It — it’s just re-
lief, I guess.”

Hawkins was looking down at Ho
Agar’s lifeless body with bitter eyes.

“I never figured him,” he said, shak-

ing his head. He glanced at Rick.
“How’d he manage it?”

Rick told him the complete story.
When he finished Hawkins said, “It’s
just pure luck that we got here in time.
When we found forty of those damn
devilish robots on the warpath instead
of just two, we thought we were goners;
but I thought of something that
should’ve occurred to us long ago. The
doctor’s robots are conditioned not to
attack human beings, but they will at-
tack other robots under orders. Just
as we were about ready to toss in the
sponge I yelled for help to the hundreds
of peaceful robots and they didn’t hesi-
tate a minute. It was a madhouse out
there on the line for a while but pretty
soon they cornered and wrecked the
defective robots, then w^ent back to
work.” He wiped his forehead with the
back of his hand and then grinned at
Rick. “I had you figured all wrong,
Weston. You’re okay.”

Rick held out his hand and smiled.

“Forget it,” he said. “We were both
way off in our estimates, I think.”

Hawkins said, “Well, I’ll let the men
get busy cleaning up the mess out
there.” He nodded to Rick and then
walked away from the laboratory, a
faint smile on his dark features.

13 ICK lit two cigarettes carefully and
handed one to the girl.

“It’s all over,” he said. “Ho Agar was
right when he said I was a sentimental
fool. I should’ve realized he was our
man, but it just never occurred to me.
If it hadn’t been for Robot 161, neither
of us would be alive right now.”

Rita said, “I still don’t understand
how that particular robot was able to
act of its own free will. Didn’t Ho
Agar say that it w^as one of the robots
that he had equipped with two brains?
And when he burned away the plastic
sheet between the two, the normal brain

AMAZING STORIES

should have been destroyed, but it
wasn’t. It continued to operate and it
directed the robot to you to warn you
of Ho Agar.”

Rick nodded somberly.

‘■Yes, the numeral 4 referred to Ho
Agar, the Martian, the inhabitant of the
fourth planet of our Solar System. I
was a fool not to have thought of that.
But I think I can understand why the
paranoic brain didn’t gain control of the
robot’s normal brain.”

“Why?” Rita asked. “That’s just
the point I can’t understand.”

“Well — ” Rick smiled faintly, and
his thoughts were ten years back in
time, to a red-haired youngster who had
fought his way through the Earth space-

school on sheer guts, “ — you never knew
Jimmy Haines, but he was a pretty
stubborn guy-”

He smiled into Rita’s eyes and put his
arm around her shoulders and drew her
close to him.

“Maybe there’s some other explana-
tion but I prefer to believe that one.”

“Ho Agar was right,” Rita said
gently. “You are a sentimental fool.”

Rick grinned wryly, “I suppose so,”
he said. “Does that make any differ-
ence to you?”

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,”
Rita smiled.

She raised herself on tip-toes and
kissed him softly on the lips.

THE END

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Aduertisr.meiit

VIGNEHES OF FAMOUS SOENTISTS

^ By ALEXANDER BLADE —

R,a6e^t JtooJze

No mailer whal science Ihis man peered into, he was
ils masler. He was Ihe Irue scienlisl-invenlor!

R obert HOOKE was bom July IS, 1633, at
Freshwater, Isle of Wight, in England, and
was educated at Westminster School in
London and at Oxford. He became an instructor
in geometry at Graham College, London, in 1664.
In 1665, in collaboration with the Hon. Robert
Boyle, they perfected an air pump which was a
vast improvement on the one designed and success-
fully operated the year before by Von Guericke in
his classical experiments on the vacuum in Ger-
many.

On November 12, 1662 he was appointed curator
of experiments to the Royal Society, of which he
was elected a fellow in 1663, and filled the office
during the remainder of his life. In 1666 the great
fire occurred in London, which followed the great
plague of the previous year, in which nearly 100,-
000 people died, about one-quarter of its popula-
tion at the time. In the fire 1,300 houses and 19
churches were burned. When at last the fire was
controlled, Hooke brought to the authorities a
very well thought-out plan and model for rebuild-
ing. But though he was appointed city engineer
in 1667 his design was not adopted. He was secre-
tary to the Royal Society between 1677 and 1683,
publishing in 1681-82 the papers read before that
body under the title of Philosophical Collections.
The last twenty years of his life were devoted to
research, and to his many inventions. He died on
March 3, 1703, in London.

Hooke was a man of unusual ability, in fact, a
genius. But unfortunately with this was coupled an
irritable temperament. At times he was so peevish
that he was constantly in trouble with associates
and close friends. Neverthless, his acuteness of per-
ception was so marked a characteristic, that he
reached many important conclusions in science for
which he should be accorded the credit.

Hooke was really the first physicist to point out
that the problems of planetary motion were purely
matters of mechanics, and should be studied from
thatpointofvieWjthus plainly intimating that forces
of one or more kinds — as then unknown — were the
agencies which compelled the heavenly bodies to
travel through the paths that observation showed
they followed ; thus anticipating the work of New-
ton. But he failed to develop the conception

mathematically. More than a century and a half
before Rumford demonstrated the identity of heat
and motion, Hooke derided the opinion of his day
that it was a fluid, or any kind of matter, and even
suggested that it might be “an effect of motion.’’

In his book entitled “Micrographia,’’ which was
published by the Royal Society in 1665, in de-
scribing his work with the newly invented micro-
scope, and which with characteristic ingenuity he
had improved by compounding its lenses, he clear-
ly described what he called the “little boxes or
cells” that were revealed in the leaves of plants
under observation, and which have since become
to the biologists of the present day the units of
organized life. If the achromatic lens, which was
devised a century later, had been available to him,
no doubt he would have discovered the minute
particles of protoplasm that these “little boxes”
contained, and detected their motion.

Hooke must be credited also with some views
on the subject of fossils that were at least of a
prophetic nature. In his day all such objects,
when found, were gravely discussed as evidences of
the Noachian Deluge. But when whole formations
of chalk were shown by the microscope to consist
entirely of the shells of minute organisms, he was
among the first to declare boldly that some other
and more reasonable explanation of their origin
must be found, and even went so far as to express
the opinion that it should be possible, through a
study of the many diflerent kinds of fossils then
known, to arrive approximately at the relative
ages of the rocks in which they occurred; a con-
clusion which has since been entirely confirmed.

In 1658, Hooke invented the balance wheel,
which ditferentiates the watch from the clock, and
made the former a possibility.

Hooke’s scientific achievements would probably
have been more striking if they had been less
varied. He originated much, but perfected liltle.
His optical investigations led him to adopt in an
imperfect form the undulatory theory of light.
He approached in a remarkable manner the dis-
covery’ of universal gravitation. He invented the
wheel barometer, discussed the application of baro-
metrical indications to meteorological forecasting,
and originated the idea of using the pendulum as a
measure of gravity.

INTRVBERS
tram the STARS

Ry Ross Rocklynne

I N A planet that is far from Earth the lowly, spat-upon slave-girl, sat on
— how far away we dare not guess the throne of the planet, held its peo-
— the wooden slopes of the Val- pies in thrall !
ley of Kopeljin were alive with the Oh, the long, glorious reign that was
dreadful sounds and radiances ended when the prime minister, who sat
of battle. Dreadful to her who, at the at her right hand, turned against her,
rear of her armies, sought only, in her betrayed her, harried her, hurled her
great, consuming rage, to save face, to own armies against her, drove her back
avenge the ignominy done by those who inch by inch, until she stood here with
had brought about her downfall. her dying loyalists around her, with

But: their blood staining her arms and face.

“Retreat!” she screamed. “Men! The end of empire!

Why do you tarry when your mistress The tears of a scalding rage furrow^ed
needs you? Retreat to the Knob, for the grime of her face. The remnants
this is the end of our empire! ” of her legions were beating their way up

The end of empire indeed! Oh, the through the wooded slopes of the Valley
long, glorious months when Bess-Istra, of Kopeljin — beating their way up and

this lovely, evil woman from beyond the

stars. Was there no way to defeat her?

AMAZING STORIES

dying without grandeur as the limitless
forces of the enemy hurled balls of
green, acid fire into their hopelessly de-
pleted ranks; dying, as explosive lead
pellets monotonously, chatteringly is-
sued from the high chalk cliff to the
right; dying, as enemy pilots, stretched
out on their tiny, down-swooping glid-
ers, vengefully dropped pill-size pellets
from the night-darkened sky; dying as
the pale, colorless, fan-shaped radiance
of a monstrous beam fluffed across the
width of the valley, fatally touching
only those who did not carry the pro-
tecting bik — touching them and shrivel-
ing them slowly to nothingness; dying
— but with the name of Bess-Istra on
their Kps I

Bess-Istra! She had flared for one
moment, like a swift-dying nova! But
the people of this planet would not soon
forget her, w’ould long remember her
after she was gone, and their remem-
brances would be the remembrances of
— fearf

She choked back her rage, her grief,
to fondle that thought. She had left
her imprint — aye! And now she would

go!

“Retreat!” she screamed down into
the bowl-shaped depression where the
last of her men held a feeble line. “To
the Knob! All is over! Bess-Istra
commands you to follow after her, to
guard her, to escort her to the Citadel
where she shall make her escape!”

Most came, scrambling up the hill to-
ward her; a few remained behind with a
cannon-ray projector, to guard the re-
treat. Bess-Istra would never see them
again, nor they her. But they were
content, for to a man they worshipped
her, looked upon her very footprints
as hallowed ground, though she had
plunged a planet into rivers of blood,
out of her own selfish passions.

Her chief officer moved behind her
with long, gaunt stride as she swiftly

followed a precipitous path. Before
her, two soldiers hacked away the ob-
truding branches of the waxy trees, so
that her way might be without hin-
drance or discomfort. And so they fi-
nally came to the base of the Knob, the
great, immeasurably thick dome of nat-
ural iron ore which capped this hill,
and whose interior formed — the Cita-
del!

gESS-ISTRA stopped, her breasts
heaving. She made a motion to her
chief officer,

“The valve, Bandro! Quick!”

Bandro stepped forward on the
moist, leafy groimd, his long slim fin-
gers sweeping camouflaging weeds from
the broad, man-size valve which would
give entrance to the Citadel. While he
worked at the complex lock with sure,
delicate touch, his impassive, gray-
seeming face turned toward Bess-Istra.

“We could yet make a truce, Mistress
Bess; by that path at least we would
retain life. By the other, we invite
death.”

She struck him across the face — sav-
agely.

“You dare suggest it!” she cried.
“You, Bandro, whom I trust! You
would have me humble myself to him
who deceived me! Let me not hear of
this again.”

Bandro stood rock still, gray eyes
lidded and concealing his emotions and
his thoughts; his love for this girl at
that moment turning into hate.

He turned woodcnly back to the
valve, worked on it for precious mo-
ments. Bess-Istra faced affrightedly
into the backward distance, hearing the
dreadful sounds of an annihilating bat-
tle, knowing that her thousands of re-
maining men were shriveling away
under the awful weapons being turned
against them.

“Quick! Oh, quick!”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

"The valve opens, my lady,” said
Bandro.

And indeed it did, just as the pale
ray across the valley began to walk
across the ground toward Bess-Istra
and the hundred loyalists who sur-
rounded her. They had no protection
against that ray, they had no biks. But
once they were in the Citadel, there
were few man-made forces that could
rout them out or harm them within the
space of several days. And by that
time, Bess-Istra and those of her em-
pire who loved her would be gone.

Bandro now led the way down
through the palely lighted corridor.
One of Bess-Istra’s lieutenants stood at
the mouth of the tunnel, gathering in
the remnants of the army, screaming at
them above the furious cacophonies of
battle. The valve would remain open
as long as there was the mere chance of
rescuing one of Bess-Istra’s men. Then
it would be closed— and though the
might of the enemy was hurled ag^nst
it, they would not destroy that impreg-
nable door. The only way they could
get through would be to utterly wreck
and annihilate the Knob itself; then it
would be too late.

They came into the great central
room of the Citadel without fanfare.
One of Bess-Istra’s mechanics came
quietly to her.

“You have need of the ship, then,
Mistress Bess?”

“Our very lives depend on it now.
And the ship is prepared for its long
journey into the deeps of space?”

“Another day will see us prepared.”

“Good. It shall be a day of rest. I
am weary to death, and my men are
weary also.” She turned to Bandro,
who stood to her right, regarding her
impassively from his darkly mottled
eyes; stood with his billowing cape
tossed loosely over his arm, the blood-
red scimitar, symbol of Bess-Istra’s

short-lived reign, on his swelling, pow-
erful chest. But impassive though ha
was she sensed his deep hostility.

Her glorious, scarlet lips curled now.
“I know your thoughts,” she whispered.
“You think that I have but dragged you
with me into a death-trap. You curse
the day your lot was ever cast with
mine.”

P MOTION at last touched his gray
^ skin, quivered the nostrils of his
straight nose. His voice quivered also,
but so deeply that one could almost
count the separate vibrations.

“I gave up life and love and family
that I might at last taste power — that
I might feel in me the strength of mil-
lions of men as they did my will.”

He sucked a lip-shivering breath
through his teeth; his chest rose and
fell quickly. He ground out, speaking
under only the greatest restraint, “And
now what have I? What? A rat-hole
to dwell in for awhile, while the enemy
pounds from outside — and a space-ship
to be dumped into, to be gassed, to sleep
for uncounted years — and not even to
know on what barren celestial flotsam
I shall crash to my end, along with her
who is responsible for my fate.”

“You presume!” she cried, white
with fury. Her hand dropped to the
deadly spastic-gun at her curving hip.
“Mark you, Bandro, I would as lief kill
you as not — ”

“As you have killed others for as
little reason,” Bandro shot out. The
wild expression of utter panic now
crossed his face like wildfire. “A
truce!” he suddenly cried, so that doz-
ens of those near heard him. “A truce!
Demand of Bess-Istra that she makes
a truce with the enemy. Aye, and for
what reason does she not? Because
she knows that, though we who have
supported her would be given leniency,
she would diel

AMAZING STORIES

“But she is sending us into certain
death. This dream of hers — this fan-
tastic belief of hers that the escape ship
will hurl through space for countless
years, and land on a planet of her
choosing — land safely! Will hurl
through space, to land while we are
lying in frozen sleep, unconscious of
elapsed time. It is a mad dream, this
plan of hers — ”

Bandro never knew what hit him. He
stiffened, stood stick-like for one
shocked second. Then he knotted up,
head between his legs, teeter-tottered
a moment, then rolled to his side, where
he lay quiet and unconscious, the
muscles of his body straining to con-
tract in unrelenting spasm.

Bess-Istra straightened from her sav-
agely tigerish half-crouch. She sheathed
the spastic-gun, in which tiny lights
were dying. She laughed a harsh, un-
pleasant laugh.

“Fool!” she spat. She stepped for-
ward, kicked the helpless man. Then
she whirled, stood fork-legged, glaring
at the dozen men who looked at her
with sullen faces. She said no word,
but held their eyes until the flush of
shame stained their brows.

Bess-Istra laughed again. “And you
are fools, too, for listening to Bandro’s
indictment and considering it! Know
you not that I w^ould not betray you?”

Under the bewitching angry languor
of her glorious eyes they could not long
maintain their sullenness. Their faces
dropped. And Bess-Istra cried, “About
your business then, soldiers! There is
much loading of armament into the
hulls of the escape ship to be done;
armaments and munitions that will give
us fair start in the conquest of another
planet not far from here. Begone —
and take this upstart Bandro with you
and roll him into an empty corner of
the ship. He is still a valuable man,
and he will be grateful to me for tak-

ing him with me when we awake from
our sleep.”

So saying, Bess-Istra walked with
supple, yet fatigued, stride to her quar-
ters; but her brows were drawn down
frowningly, sadly, over her barbarian
eyes. An episode was drawing to a
close, a golden day had turned to lead;
she wanted but one thing, now, wanted
it passionately — the neck of the man
who had betrayed her between her
fingers!

qne day passed; one day being that
length of time required for that
far-distant planet to turn once on its
axis.

The enemy harried the Citadel with
the full outpouring of their frightful
weapons. And finally, 'a bare few mo-
ments from the time that the great,
armed escape ship was to be plummeted
into the deeps of space, Bcss-Tstra was
called to the television cubby, where
the hard, yet war-weary, eyes of her
arch-enemy bit into hers.

“I call you,” he said wearily, “only
because I have the good of my people
in mind, Bess-Istra. I — ”

She interrupted him. “Traitor!
Beast whom I trusted! Would that I
could but drive a dirk into your heart!”
She made a savage, utterly unrestrained
motion, came close to the television
screen until it seemed that her blazing
eyes would sear him. “Do not talk to
me of the good of your people. Such
words are but hypocritical mouthings.
You seek the good of the people no
more that did I — you seek only to flaunt
your own power over them, for you
yourself have felt the acid of lowly, ig-
nominious beginnins ! ”

“Not true, Bess-Istra,” he made sad
answer, and on his weary face there was
pity for her. “I have never been driven
by selfish motives.”

“What do you want of me, traitor?”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

“Of you, Bess-Istra, I want only
yourself. For all your tyranny, the
tyranny which at last compelled me to
betray you, the people could be swayed
by you as by no other in all our history.
They loved you, though you whipped
them.”

A muscle in his hard, drawn face
twitched. There was pleading in his
eyes. Unconsciously, he extended his
hands in a pleading gesture.

“Forget this mad desire for power,
Mistress Bess! Remember only of the
great good you can do the people. This
cruelty that you have so often shown is
but an outward garment in which you
clothe yourself. The cruel avenging,
tyrannical Bess-Istra is not the true
Bess-Istra. The true Bess-Istra is
gentle, soft, merciful, feminine — a
woman both lovable and admirable.
Bess-Istra — return to my side and rule
with me!”

Her lashes lowered over her glorious,
gold-flecked eyes, her full lips writhed
into a taunting yet voluptuous smile.
“You love me, fool,” she said huskily.

His shoulders fell. “Yes. But it is
not for that reason alone that I wish
you to return. It is because I know
there is in you more good than evil.
Bess-Istra — together we could rebuild
a war-shattered world! Will you re-
turn?”

tpOR a long moment she said nothing,

savoring the hope that grew in his
eyes with every moment of her hesita-
tion. Then she burst into a wild, taunt-
ing laugh. She cried:

“No! That is my answer, my final
answer. And I am glad that you asked
me — glad that you love me— -for now
your torture at my refusal will be all
the greater! Now, take your face from
my sight forever!”

The muscles of his face slowly whit-
ened. He said in a horrible voice, “I

am compelled to slay you and all those
in your garrison, Bess-Istra.”

Her hands were on her hips, her eyes
widened in mock amazement. “Indeed!
Know then, that when you destroy the
Knob, and break into the Citadel, no
soldier, and no Bess-Istra shall be
found. The Citadel shall be an empty
shell for no life shall be here.”

He studied her with pain-shadowed
eyes. His voice was fiat.

“How?”

And she laughed again. “How! Now
let that mystery torture you to the end
of your days ! Farewell ! ”

His face faded as she flipped the
toggle switch — faded forever. And on
Bess-Istra’s face was only a look of
gloating triumph. She could leave this
planet now, knowing that in great mea-
sure she had avenged herself on the man
who had caused her downfall.

She thought over what he had said
concerning her softness, her inner gen-
tleness. A dark sneer grew on her lips.
The utter fool for thinking such ob-
vious nonsense!

She sought out her chief mechanic.
“Tell me, now. Is the ship ready for its
long journey? Have the soldiers been
loaded into their acceleration cham-
bers? Does the ship bristle with those
very weapons which harried us into
our hole?”

“All ready and waiting your com-
mand, Mistress Bess.”

She laughed joyously. “Then let us
leave this planet forever. Relieve
Bandro of his spastic slumbers, bind
him in the acceleration chamber which
his rank affords him; for if he were to
undergo the Sleep with common sol-
diers, they 'would have no respect for
him and so would be useless to me. In-
form him that I forgive his loss of con-
trol — inform him that I graciously re-
tain his as my second in command.

“Come now; there is no reason to

AMAZING STORIES

tarry longer. To the ship! ”

Nor was there reason to tarry longer.
The giant cylindrical ship was loaded
with its thousand remaining soldiers of
the army; with deadly weapons; with
armaments and munitions. And its
nose was shoved into the tube-runway
that would give it exit from the Citadel
— and from the planet.

Empire’s end! But so certain was
Bess-Istra that there was no fatal flaw
in her fantastic plan, that she knew an-
other empire, perhaps greater, lay be-
yond the vast sweeps of space the
escape ship would take her. Another
empire! A new empire for Bess-Istra,
once the spat-upon slave-girl!

And so an era ended, the era of Bess-
Istra upon that planet. Nevermore
would she be seen there — ^nevermore I
She was gone, gone so swiftly that no
eye knew of her going — for the escape
ship snapped away into open space
much as a watermelon seed is flicked
away when pressed between thumb and
index finger.

Flicked away — immediately soared
into tremendous, appalling speed — left
that solar system under the guiding
hand of the navigator— plunged head-
long into the unimaginable emptiness of
interstellar space — settled down to a
steady, void-consuming pace — a pace it
would continue, according to Bess-
Istra’s plan, for thirteen full years.

navigator, the brilliant scientist
who had invented the first space-
ship under the guidance of Bess-Istra,
swung around on his chair, his too-
bright eyes fixed on hers.

“It is done, Mistress Bess,” he
breathed. “My genius has succeeded
in the most monumental calculation
ever undertaken by mind of man.
Though the next solar system lies a full
light-year distant, though the planet
which you and I have studied in detail

through the tele-tyt travels on a com-
plex orbit, the escape ship shall land
there gently, safely, thirteen years from
now! And we shall conquer that planet,
vanquish its peoples!”

“Then — ” said Bess-Istra “ — then
we are ready for — ^the Sleep! Oh, Sab-
Hallo, you have done well indeed, and
shall have a position of power under
me. But tell me, Sab-Hallo. By what
means shall the ship land with no hand
to guide it?”

“You need not worry, Mistress Bess.
Long before the ship lands, radio-echoes
will let robot controls know how far
away the planet is. The ship will brake
its speed accordingly. And when the
distance from the planet is zero, the
ship’s speed relative to the planet will
be zero.

“Other instruments which measure
the heat given off by those people we
intend to conquer will make certain that
the ship lands on an isolated spot.

“And as soon as the ship lands, a
strategically placed lever will activate
a mechanism which will dissipate the
Sleep-gas, will provide normal air.
Then we shall awaken, in full possession
of our senses, ready to do battle.”

Bess-Istra, in spite of herself, felt an
inward shrinking sensation. Here in the
control room, nothing but a transparent
partition staved off vacuous space.
Stars- — stars in endless number, lone-
ly, lonely! How deep was space; how
bottomless and frightening.

“And,” she whispered, “what if we
should perchance miss our destined
landing place, Sab-Hallo? Would we
. . . die?”

“Die?” The thought was terrifying
to the conceited Sab-Hallo. “No — no I
I have made provisions. The Sleep-
gas will last — forever! And some day
the ship would land on another habit-
able planet, perhaps even in another
solar system.”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

'‘Tt IS good” She sighed. “But of
course, we will land on the planet of our
choosing, and to think otherwise is
foolish. Come, Sab-Hallo, leave tlie
controls — and let us pump the ship full
of the Sleep-gas. . .

. . . And it was done! Soldiers drew
th;- straps around themselves in re-
s' .=>nse to the command that was issued.
They breathed deep of the odorless
vapor that soon filtered in from the ven-
tilation ducts; breathed deep and slept.

Bandro, thoughts alive with his
hatred of Bess-Istra, slept.

And Sab-Hallo, unafraid, pleased
with himself, certain of the perfect
operation of the many strange instru-
ments which composed this ship, slept.

And Bess-Istra lay languidly on her
couch in the observation room, her
glorious, gold-flecked eyes surveying
empty space. Soft, gentle, transparent
straps held her to the couch, for there
was no gravity.

There she lay, breathing deeply, no
longer afraid of the star-dusted void,
but rather admiring its chilling beauty.
It was necessary that she should lie
here in full view of that abyss. Neces-
sary to abate the sense of loneliness, of
wretched depres.sion that now gripped
her. There was something soothing,
comforting in that velvet darkness. . . .

As soothing as the vapors which now
were drawn into her lungs, and which
now stole from every tiniest cell of her
body any semblance of life; caused her
lungs to cease breathing, her heart to
stop, her blood to halt in its veins and
arteries; her brain to stop thinking.
This was — the Sleep.

And Bess-Istra — slept!

CLEFT for how long? WTio knows?
^ Not for thirteen years, as she and
Sab-Hallo had supposed. For the escape
.ship did not land on the planet at which
it was aimed!

Did not! The scientists of that planet
were wiser than Sab-Hallo had known.
Wiser by infinitely more than most of
the many races of the universe that bear
the human form. And more peace lov-
ing. Those scientists bad their own
tele-eye, and with it they searched Bess-
Istra’s ship; searched it, knew its his-
tory, its terrible purpose — understood
all this when the .ship was a mere hun-
dred million miles away.

And so from that planet which Bess-
Istra thought to have conquered came
a powerful beam of force which gently,
unjarringly, grasped the escape ship;
changed its course, ever so subtly;
shunted it into a new path but slightly
different from the old; guided it out of
that solar system; sent it boring with-
out change of speed out into interstellar
space again. That planet would never
be bothered by Bess-Istra.

And that path the ship took and kept
— and would keep until, perchance, it
should enter another solar system far
removed from this one.

Then would it land automatically on
another planet?

W^o knew? Certainly not Bess-Is-
tra, who slept with her lifeless face to
the changing stars. . . .

And how long ago was this? When
did all this happen?

Longer ago than any of us dares to
think. . . .

CHAPTER I

“They Worship Another God!"

pRACK!

Crack!

^‘Heyr

The ejaculation was a roar of rage
that shivered the dripping lianas snak-
ing through the wet foliage of a mid-
summer African jungle.

AMAZING STORIES

“Put down tliat rifle! Quit shooting
at me! rm no damned Jap!”

“Sorry, brother,” an austere voice at
last spoke from behind the banana
plant. The gun was lowered. “The
very lions of the jungles these days
might be Japanese — who, I agree with
you, are damned; damned, almost to
the point where they are beyond re-
demption. However, had I hit you,
you need not have been alarmed. The
Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh
away.”

“Praise the Lord,” gasped the thor-
oughly unnerved voice of Bill van
Astor-Smythe, ace legman of the New
York Corey Features Syndicate, “and
spare the ammunition!”

He broke from his shelter in the
ravine, his feet sinking ankle deep in
the decaying humus of the Portuguese
East African jungle. His black hair
was in disarray, his khaki shorts and
shirt torn and befouled with swamp
mud and studded with tenacious burrs.
Bloody thorn scratches made tit-tat-toe
patterns on arms and thighs. To his
bosom, as if it were purest gold, he
clasped a portable typewriter, which,
upon examination, would have proved
to be vintage 1929. No matter! It
worked and any typewriter that was
available and that worked was a pre-
cious thing indeed in this year of 1944.

As he weaved across the clearing, he
was grinning a cockeyed grin in spite
of the evidence that an unfriendly jun-
gle had mauled him around.

“Hip, hip, Reverend ! ” he yelped. “As
I live and breathe, Fm glad to see a
human being again! The incident is
forgiven and forgotten. Which way to
the mission and a juicy alligator steak?
Boy! What wouldn’t I give for a hot
bath Astor-Smythe style. I’m lousy.”

He tottered suddenly. He sat down
on his portable, propping his dizzy head
In his palms.

“Wow! Who’d have ever guessed
those Japs would come along and riddle
those poor British lads? Didn’t have
a chance, not one of them. I was in
the rear of the British column and we
were just an hour out from Lorenzo
Marques when they ambushed us. Bet
you an5^hmg I was the only one got off
with a whole skin. . . Damn! This is
fierce ! ”

He had a pounding headache, nausea.
He couldn’t see straight. But suddenly
the man who had shot at him was hold-
ing out a canteen and a quinine pill.
Bill washed the pill down gratefully.
After a few more dizzy moments he
jumped up and weaved a circle aroimd
his typewriter.

“Boy! Hell! That’s better. Fever’s
gone, but my head is ringing. Thanks!”

The kneeling man rose. He was
dressed in shorts, too, but a ministerial
closed collar was around his neck.

“Thank the Lord, brother; I am but
His servant!” he intoned.

“Thank God, then! Fm a .servant,
too. I serve the press, a sort of god in
its own right. Let me introduce my-
self, Reverend — you are a reverend, of
course?”

“As the Lord maketh me, so am I.”

“Okay, okay! But what’s the han-
dle?”

'^HE other’s brows drew down over
studious, serious eyes that couldn’t
have seen more years than Bill’s twen-
ty-six.

“Handle?” His lips broke into a
puzzled, almo.st shy smile. He said
softly. “Oh! I am the Reverend John
Stevens— and this — ”

He pointed to a nondescript, pinched-
looking companion who now emerged
from the jungle and stood near him.

“ — and this is my assistant, Thomas
Reynolds.”

Bill grabbed Reynolds’ hand.

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

“Pleased to meet you, Reynolds — and
you, Johnny — er, Reverend.’’ He also
grabbed at Stevens’ band, dropped it
hastily when he saw Stevens wince.
“And run Bill van Astor-Smythe, of
the snooty, snobby, nasty, nose-raising,
blue-blooded van Astor-Smythes. Ain’t
— I mean isn’t that something to live
down? Boy, you should have seen the
old man when I shipped myself off to
England three years ago as a special
war correspondent-on-trial for my syn-
dicate.”

The memory made him shout with
joy, so that a half-dozen polychromatic
parrots ceased their painful jargon and
fluffed their wings with frightened
squawks.

The Reverend John Stevens had
cause for alarm, too. He closed his
hand around Bill’s arm, looked around
affrightedly.

“Please — I beg you!”

“Eh?”

“Japanese! I have no way of know-
ing what inroads they have made into
Mozambique, nor where the British
front is laid down. But such an unto-
ward sound as you have just made
might draw them in this direction if a
party of them were near.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I see what
you mean. Maybe we better get back
to the mission, huh? You have got a
mission, haven’t you?”

“By the grace of God, yes. It is a
little place, but I am able to say that
the several hundred Bantus who live
in this region have been converted to
the true religion. That is — ”

He paused. His eyes shifted wor-
riedly, as if he were conscious of a sin
he had committed. A sudden despair
tugged at his lips. “That is, I believed
until yesterday that they had been con-
verted. Now it seems . . . doubtful. Ye.s-
terday morning, a great many candle
holders and candles were missing from

the altar. I questioned my house-boy
patiently and . . . and he broke down.
He gave me no details, but I under-
stand that my parishioners are — ” he
dropped his eyes hopelessly “ — well,
that they are worshipping another god
of their own choosing.”

“You don’t say! The dirty heath-
ens!”

“Oh, please don’t condemn them, for
they know not what they do. But . . .
well, I am not on my way to the mission,
as you suppose, but to the village where
I understand the new idol has becrn
erected.”

He patted the Garand rifle which had
given Bill van Astor-Smythe an un-
comfortable few minutes. Plis lips,
which had seemed pleasant only, and a
little .shy, now turned hard.

“And then I shall strike down the
clay image which my straying sheep
have raised in mockery of the true
God.” He raised his hand on high, and
his blue eyes acquired an expression of
terrible wrath, “The Lord our God,” he
cried, “is exceeding fearful when
wickedness tarries in the breast, my
children; he shall flay from thee the
sins which I, and my father before me.
have sought out and tried to destroy,
verily — ”

^‘Cutl” Bill van Astor-Smythe yelled
He was standing with his hands on his
hips and grinning. As Stevens lowered
his hand and blinked at him, Bill
grinned. “That kind of junk is for the
movies, pall It’s sob-sister stuff, see?”

“Sob-sister?” Stevens blinked. Then
he got a woe-begone expression on his
face, and all the religious rapture faded.
His shoulders slumped. “I understand,”
he said unhappily. “The mission has
been my home all my life, you see, and
during the last five years — since my
father died — ” He stopped, gulping.

Bill looked at him with pity. “Sure,
sure, I get it. You’ve been cooped up

AMAZING STORIES

here away from the world all your life,
playing spiritual nurse-maid to a bunch
of frizzy-headed Zulus. Well, pal, it
looks like the end is in sight. Day after
tomorrow, the Nips will be pad-padding
through your jungle and making a GHQ
out of your mosquito-proof parlor,
Johnny.”

gTEVENS’ dismay showed in his eyes.

“Oh, not really!” he pleaded. “You
mean that Mozambique will fall to the
enemy? You mean to say the gallant
Tommies won’t hold their own?”

“I double-mean it.” As carelessly as
Bill spoke, his fists knotted, and sparks
of anger showed in his narrowed eyes.
“And not only that, Madagascar across
Mozambique Channel is filthy all the
way to the interior with Japanese batal-
lions. It’s the pay-off, the big blow-up
—and the Allies are in a he — that is, a
melluva hess.”

Bill picked up his portable. “Come
on! ni help you play truant officer
on the hooky players having truck with
the old-time religion. Better give me
another of those quinine pills, though.
Da — darn ! Wish I had a kepi to shunt
this water down my back instead of my
neck.”

Bill was feeling a thousand times bet-
ter as they forced their way through
that dripping tropical forest. He was
light of heart, cocky of tongue, and
breezy of manner under normal condi-
tions, and normal conditions for him
were very close to a state of affairs
which would madden most other people.
Bill had sat on the chalk cliffs of Dover
with a telescope and this very type-
writer, as the hundreds of fishing
smacks came beating across the Chan-
nel from Dunkirk loaded with their
grimy soldiers. On the way from Ba-
taan to Corregidor his typewriter keys
had given the Jap shore batteries some
tough competition — at least from the

standpoint of racket. And by plane to
Australia he kept up the infernal noise.
Only, the New York Corey Features
Syndicate did not consider his cabled
news infernal. That syndicate smeared
Bill’s reportorial adventures all over
the bottom of the front page of ninety
daily newspapers throughout the land.

And from Australia to the Solomons,
to the Aleutians; a stretch on Midway;
some madness on the Libyan Desert,
bouncing along in a tough American
jeep hot on the heels of Rommel’s Afri-
can army; and from thence across the
Mediterranean where the Allies were
striking at Italy, the “soft belly of the
Axis dragon.”

Then new developments. The Suez-
Red Sea route to the South Pacific was
not yet safe for Allied shipping, and
supply ships were making the long jour-
ney down around the tip of Africa —
the Cape of Good Hope. Thence these
supply ships were constrained to beat
up along the East Coast, passing direct-
ly through Mozambique Channel, which
was flanked on one side by Mozambique
(Portuguese East Africa) and on the
other by the island of Madagascar.

In Mozambique Channel, Axis sub-
marines had sunk tons upon tons of
Allied shipping, using Madagascar as a
secret base. To prevent the Germans
from taking over Madagascar from the
neutral French, and thus controlling the
sea route entirely, Britain had taken
over the Island in 1942.

But Madagascar was only half the
problem. Across the channel was Mo-
zambique, which might at any time be
seized from neutral Portugal by Ger-
many, and which already harbored a
Nazi consul who used his diplomatic
immunity to cable Germany fatal in-
formation concerning Allied ship move-
ments through the Channel.

Britain had completed the job by
gaining Portugal’s tacit assent to oc-

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

cupy Mozambique, also. They held the
Portuguese possession for hardly more
than a month when the Japs launched
a simultaneous attack on both island
and mainland.

And now, in midsummer of 1944, the
Allied sea route around Africa was im-
periled.

T> ILL VAN ASTOR-SMYTHE cheer-
fully explained all this to the Rev-
erend John Stevens and his companion.
Neither having been isolated, was ap-
parently well-informed.

Stevens was leading the way, seek-
ing out paths and short-cuts around
and across swamps thick with man-
groves.

“A boy scout, too!” Bill gasped ad-
miringly. “You find your way around
like a bush native, Johnny. Someday
I’ll do the same for you, maybe, along
the complicated wilderness trails of li’l
ol’ New York. If the Nips don’t get
us — which they probably will.”

Stevens said nothing; he kept on
pushing ahead, his jaw righteously
grim. Bill felt a flash of respect for
the young missionary. Even though
the Japs were bound to make things
uncomfortable in a few short days,
Stevens was going to disabuse his “pa-
rishoners” of the notion that there
would be more than one true God.

Bill for the first time seriously con-
sidered this alleged new god. He was
curious. What or who were the natives
worshipping? Probably nothing very
exciting, of course. Probably nothing
at all. Stevens had merely heard a
rumor which was just that, and nothing
more. But still, perhaps Bill could get
a story out of it. A half-dozen sticks
of type, maybe. . . .

And so he was shocked when, with
the gloom of falling night, they came to
the edge of a glade and saw that which
threw all of Bill’s (and, indeed, all of

humanity’s) smug beliefs in the unique-
ness of the planet Earth into a cocked
hat.

A space ship!

CHAPTER II
The Awakening

^^HE three men suddenly stopped in
the concealing growth of wild maize
on the edge of the oval-shaped glade.
Stevens’ breath drew through his teeth.
His arm shot out, forced his tw-o com-
panions to their knees.

Bill gaped. Slow dizzy thoughts be-
gan to parade across his consciousness.
The scene at which he looked was be-
yond the pale of common sense.

Hardly twenty feet away from him,
seated cross-legged on the ground, were
a half-dozen white-haired, fuzzy-headed
Kaffirs. They were sitting in front of
drums which were made by stretching
antelope skins across hollovved-out tree
trunks. The Kaffirs were moaning
softly, weirdly, almost inaudibly. They
swayed back and forth, while their fin-
gers brushed at their drums and made
a wild barbaric rhythm which Bill had
to strain his ears to hear.

Their heads w^ere raised, toward the
“god” they were keeping vigil over — a
sleeping girl!

The girl was not all. There was the
cylindrical-shaped ship. M least. Bill
had the crazy feeling that it had to be
a ship. It had only two portholes,
and outside of that, no protruding
features. But if it was a ship, it
was no ordinary ship, for its in-
credibly hard-looking metal surface
had a slight tinge of greenness, like the
patina that covers ancient things. And
though this patina was not extremely
noticeable, Bill had the feeing that this
ship was older than any man-made
thing. Perhaps older than man him-
self!

AMAZING STORIES

All this Bill took in with a mere
glance. But the greater part of his at-
tention was captured by the girl. His
breath caught in his throat; there was
in him an emotion that was like pain.
He was lost in her compelling, other
world beauty. She lay motionless, head
resting on the glossy black pillow of
her hair, a coverlet barely concealing
the perfection of her body. Her eyes
were closed. Her cheeks were tinged
with the flush of life, her lips were scar-
let as blood, set into a piquant, child-
unhappy expression. But her breasts
did not rise and fall. She might have
been but a painting. She might have
been merely a corpse — if Bill had not
known instinctively that she was alive.

“No wonder,” Bill heard himself say-
ing in a low, crazily-wavering voice, “no
wonder they think she’s a goddess. Oh,
Lord! I could worship her myself 1”

“You do vrell to pray to your Lord,”
the Reverend John Stevens whispered,
in acid sotto voce, “if such are your
thoughts! What wickedness swells
here? Who is this shameless creature?
What is her purpose in stealing my con-
verts?”

Bill felt a flash of irritation. “Boy!
You sure take yourself seriously, don’t
you, Reverend? Shut upl”

Stevens’ mouth opened and closed.
He blinked and gulped. Reynolds, his
assistant, said uncertainly, “See here,
now — ”

“See here — nothing!” Bill shunted
himself a step closer to them, whisper-
ing fiercely. All his flippancy, his cocky
acceptance of a dangerous situation,
was gone. In its place was the deadly
seriousness of a tough, quick-thinking
reporter who sees a story beside which
all other news stories pale to nothing.

“This is something that is bigger than
you or me, Reverend Reynolds. And
why? Because that girl is not a native
of the planet Earth!”

“Not . . . not a native of . . . the
planet Earth?” Stevens repeated the
words in a tone of horror. Then his
face grew very stern indeed. He leaped
to his feet with a cry of anger. “Blas-
phemy!” he cried. “Impossible! My
father taught me that God created
Heaven and Earth and populated Earth
with creatures made in his own image.
Other planets are therefore lifeless, and
the Lord did not intend man to travel
between them.”

'^HEN he apparently regretted his
temper. The flame in his eyes died
down. But he said sternly, “Do not
interfere with my duty as a minister of
the Gospel!”

And he whirled, and with long, plung-
ing stride broke into the glade and con-
fronted the drummers!

Bill van Astor-Smythe stood up, his
hands on his hips in disgust. Talk about
your fire-breathing sky -pilots! Here
was one in the flesh. The drummers had
leaped to their feet, gesticulating, jab-
bering wildly in the Kaffir tongue. But
the Reverend John Stevens talked back
at them, even more bombastically, and
suddenly they began to cower, and then
fell to their knees, their heads lowered.
Bill heard them mumble meaningly,
“OurfatherwhoartinHeaven — ”

They went through the whole Lord’s
Prayer, and then, with wails of terror,
ran into the jungle, apparently back to-
ward their village. These oldsters were,
Bill guessed, chosen solely to keep
watch over the villagers’ new object of
worship when the tribal ceremonies did
not include her.

“They realize their sin,” Stevens said
triumphantly. “Please come out, Mr.
Astor-Smythe; Mr. Reynolds.”

It was with a strange sense of eeri-
ness that Bill stood in front of the
space-ship, for such he knew it to be.
The glorious creature who lay on a

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

couch in what must have been the ob-
servation booth of the ship was utterly
oblivious of events — had been oblivious
for how long? Bill shivered. The
thick, glass-like material which sealed
the girl in was scarred with long, white,
gouged streaks, straight as a ruler — as
if. perhaps, meteors moving at incredi-
ble speed had struck glancing blows,
had left their marks. Inside, on the
glass plate, were star-shaped hasps or
locks which might have accommodated
keys.

The girl was fairly visible, partly be-
cause of brightening moonlight, partly
because of the rows of lighted candles
in their candlesticks which had been
placed on the ledge beneath the trans-
parent partition beyond which she
slept. Nonetheless, Stevens drew his
flashlight, spot-lighted her upper body
and head.

Stevens’ voice was gloomy when he
spoke. “A creature of evil and wicked-
ness, verily; a temptress who, if she
should wake, would be more dangerous
than a serpent of the jungle.”

Bill grinned. “Ixiiay, fellows! Don’t
stare so hard at the young lady while
she’s in bed. It’s unethical. Besides
that, it ain’t right!”

Thomas Reynolds flushed scarlet.
His mouth fell in his confu.sion. “I was
only trying — ” he began in protest.

“We were trying to determine
whether the — the creature really came
from another planet,” Stevens hastened
to his aid. Stevens’ own boyish cheeks
were red.

Bill chuckled. “Save it, pals. I
know what you were trying to deter-
mine — whether you’d have what it
takes when she does wake. But never
mind about cogitating too hard about
whether she really came from another
planet. Take one look at the ten-legged
spider do/.ing in that web spun on the
outside of the glass there. Hey! There’s

a whole half-dozen of them!”

JT WAS true. The spiders, if spiders
they could be called, had woven
their strands across the glass-like ma-
terial, anchoring them in the sharp
corners where the glass-like material
melted in the hard metal of the ship.
But they were ten-legged spiders!

“See what I mean?” Bill demanded
tensely. “You won’t find any ten-
legged spiders on Earth. Spiders are
arachnida; they have eight legs by defi-
nition. That proves this ship came from
another planet. Somehow, the eggs got
caught in the corners of this window,
endured the cold of space and then
hatched when the sun struck them.”

The beam Stevens held on the girl
shook, as if the entire philosophy of his
life were being rearranged. He des-
perately tried to grab at a straw. “That
— that spider up there has eight le — ”
He stopped, biting at his lips when the
“spider,” as if in answer to the chal-
lenge, moved in its web, and stretched
out two additional legs which had been
hidden beneath its body. He faltered,
unable longer to question the argument.

Bill took the facetiousness from his
voice. “Play the beam around the other
parts of the ship, Reverend — Hold it!
There!”

A vast excitement rippled through
Bill’s breast. Suddenly he had dropped
to one knee, dropping his portable.

“Look at this!” he yelped. “A lever
of some kind! Hey, man!” He whis-
tled. “And if it isn’t the lever that will
wake up this girl and — or open up the
ship — ”

“How do you know?” the missionary
asked sharply. He and Reynolds had
similarly dropped to their knees. In
spite of themselves, they had been in-
fected by Bill’s excitement over a
chance discovery.

“I don’t knowl”

AMAZING STORIES

Bill wrapped both hands around the
foot-long bar of metal which protruded
from the base of the ship — the only such
protuberance to be seen anywhere.

‘‘But I’m almost certain of it!” Bill
continued vibrantly. “Look here! Thi<
isn’t a lever so much as a plunger. It
was designed to be pushed upward.
\\Tien the ship landed, it would force
this plunger upward. But the ship, by
pure chance, rested its aft section on
the limb of that fallen baobab tree
there. The plunger was prevented from
touching solid ground. It obviously
didn’t fulfill its function when the ship
landed!”

The Reverend John Stevens flicked
the beam over the plunger. He said
slowly, “And perhaps it was a good
thing it didn’t, Mr. Astor-Smythe. I
have a conviction about that girl in
there, and it is not a pleasant conviction
— Don't do that!"

“It’s already done,” Bill said in
satisfaction. It had required no more
than a steady upward pressure to slide
the plunger out of sight into the belly
of the ship.

Bill glanced sidewise at Stevens,
grinning. He enjoyed the look of striken
uneasiness on the young missionary’s
face. Stevens, strangely, had an almost
religious fear of the sleeping girl. How
silly that was! Showed what happened
to you when you were isolated from the
rest of the world and had nothing but
a Bible and a flock of Zulus to keep
you company —

And it was at that moment that Bill
heard the hissing sound! At that mo-
ment that he sensed terrible danger!

T TTS eyes popped. Coming from in-
visible apertures in the hull of the
ship he saw sudden streams of a yellow-
ish vapor. He caught a whiff of it. It
spread mortal terror through his soul
as his brain went suddenly dizzy.

He leaped to his feet and back. He
caught chaotic glimpses of Stevens and
of his assistant, Reynolds. They had
seen the gas too. Not only seen it, but
•breathed it! They were tottering,
staggering away from the ship, or try-
ing to stagger away. But .suddenly they
fell on the ground.

Bill himself fell, futile, scalding
curses leaping through his remaining
thoughts. Stevens had been right.
There was something hellish about this
whole thing, about this ship, about this
girl. Why had he ever had the bad
sense to push that plunger up? it had
obviously released a gas designed to
slay any life near the ship! For Bill
knew he was dying as he fell.

But as he fell, he saw the glorious
sleeping creature stir — saw her limbs
move in life — saw her lips part-~saw
her eyes open with awareness of an
external world. He had been right.
The plunger had been designed to wake
her — and perhaps others of her kind
within the ship! He groaned in abject
horror of what he had done, and felt life
slip away. . . .

CHAPTER 111

Peace for fhe Planet Earth!

V^HEN Bill van Astor-Smythe re-
’ gained consciousness he knew
with certainty that he was the captive
of the people from the stars. He al-
ready was quite certain that the sleep-
ing girl was not the only inhabitant of
the ship. She would not have come
alone.

Even as he lay there, bis mind strug-
gling out of its torpor, his bones like
lead, he was reasoning his way out of
confusion. Where had this ship come
from? Why? Bill shuddered; for some
reason he felt that if he had only
listened to the Reverend John Stevens,

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

he could have averted a terrible catas-
trophe, which still lay in the future.

He did not regain full consciousness
immediately. But for a lucid second, as
through a blur, he saw three figures
standing over him. Two were men,
dressed in alien clothes. The third was
the ravishingly beautiful sleeper who no
longer slept. They were wearing strange
helmets which looked like those used
in football. Bill knew that such a hel-
met was on his own head, and on those
of Stevens and Reynolds who lay on the
floor of this room with him.

Between the helmets ran wires.

That Bill saw before he lost con-
sciousness again. But he felt strange
forces plucking at his brain ... he felt
his thoughts running with incredible
swiftness over every memory of his life,
and every forgotten memory, as if some-
body were turning the phonograph of
his mind at incredible speed.

Then he was awake — and being
hauled to his feet!

“Men of the planet Earth!” an alien
human holding a strange weapon
snapped. “You will fall in between us!
Mistress Bess will speak to you!”

Along with the dazed Reynolds and
Stevens, Bill fell into line between two
guards dressed in resplendent metal-
braid uniforms. They were marched
down an echoing corridor. They turned
left into a lavishly draped room. And
here sat Mistress Bess— the Sleeper!

Bill felt the same painful lump in his
throat. She was so beautiful! Beauti-
ful beyond the laws of nature.

They were brought to a standstill.

Studying them closely, the girl leaned
forward, her brief silken costume span-
gled with diadem jewels that clustered
in her hair like bright galaxies strewn
on ebon space.

“Leave me, guards!” she spoke sud-
denly. “I do not require protection
from those who are my friends!” Her

hand came down as the guards bowed
themselves out.

Mistress Bess smiled — smiled a
voluptuous smil^ that was as kindly as
it was subtly taunting. And suddenly,
for no good reason, that smile enraged
Bill.

His square jaw came out. “Friends?
Like fun!” He snapped the words in-
sultingly, his fists knotting. “If you call
gassing us a friendly act, think again!
Or maybe that’s your idea of how to say
‘hello, how are you’ on your planet?”

He sneered.

Her eyes, gold-flecked, turned cold.
She half rose on her chair. Then she
sank back, apparently restraining her-
self.

“You speak rashly, handsome one,”
she spoke softly. But there was the
sharpness of a razor beneath her voice,
“But no matter. I am glad you have al-
ready ascertained that we have come
from another planet. That is true. You
must also realize that the gas which
stole your consciousness was released
entirely automatically, was designed
only to protect us from hostile creatures
when the ship landed, to awaken me and
my officers and my thousand soldiers
from their long long sleep.”

“Soldiers?” Stevens was breathing
hard. “And why do you bring soldiers
to the planet of the Lord? Nay, do not
answer! Already, the Lord my God
has spaken the truth unto me,” His
arms flung up, and his voice was terrible
as he fearlessly stepped toward the Mis-
tress Bess.

He cried, “You are a scientific race,
versed in the arts of the destruction of
lives and property — and you have come
here to conquer the planet Earth!’*

'^HE cry rang through the gorgeous-
ly tapestried room, and for a mo-
ment it seemed to turn everybody into
statues. Then Bill yelped in hopeless

AMAZING STORIES

disgust, “Oh, nuts! Come back here,
you dam — you blankety fool!”

He stepped forward, grabbed the
African sky-pilot’s arm, and pulled him
back. He turned to Mistress Bess.

“Sorry, Mistress Bess. He — ah — he
knows not what he does — oh, criminy,
he’s got me doing it, too! I mean, he’s
got a fantastic streak a mile wide — and
not a magazine stand within three hun-
dred miles! I don’t think you’re any
angel and I don’t feel as if you’re my
bosom friend, see? — but I’ve got sense
enough to know that nobody’s going to
try to conquer any planet with an army
of a thousand men and only one measly
ship! Sorry he blew up.”

Her eyes were narrowed, and Bill
thought he saw the trace of an ironic
smile. He frowned — but at that mo-
ment the door opened. Into the room
stepped the two men whom Bill vaguely
remembered having seen just before he
regained complete consciousness.

The taller of the two broke into a
rapid, harsh flow of language. Mistress
Bess spoke sharply.

“Speak in English, Bandro! These
are . . . our friends.”

The crescent eyebrows of him called
Bandro shot up. There was a demoral-
ized expression about his mouth. It
was evident that some discovery had
shocked him.

The smaller, stockier man at his side
broke into less excited speech. “It is
of no great importance Mistress Bess,”
he snapped. “Bandro is unduly alarmed,
even though we entirely missed the
planet for w^hich we started!”

‘‘WhatV^ The girl cried the word out
in shocked unbelief. “But . . . but your-
self told me that there were no other
solar systems with many light-years —
hundreds, perhaps. That . . . that means
that we have slept for — ” dread drew
the rosiness away from her cheeks —
^‘lor how long?’*

The other’s voice w'as somber.
“Longer than we dare to think, my lady.
But what matter? To us it was but the
fraction of a moment. We closed our
eyes and opened them as the plunger
dissipated the gases in the ship. And
the ship fulfilled its purpose. It has
landed us, safely, on a planet populated
by beings of our own calibre — beings
whom we can — ”

“Stop!” She cut him off. She was
breathing heavily, her face ghastly. “No
matter. It is as you say. We must
thank our gods for guiding us to safety
on a livable planet — ”

“There is only one true God! You
foul creatures of the devil — ”

“Shut up!** Bill swung Stevens
around again, his eyes blazing. “Get
hold of yourself, you — ”

“I cannot stand by and see my reli-
gion blasphemed,” Stevens cried ex-
citedly. “This — ”

She who called herself Bcss-Istra
leaped to her feet. “Stop!” she cried
sharply. “Will you have us throw you
in chains, fool? I am not of a mind to
tarry when there is work to be done —
when there is a great need to be met!”

CUDDENLY a soft slyness tugged at
^ her lips. She left the dais on which
she sat, her bare, golden legs moving
with silken stride. She stopped when
a few feet removed from the three men.
Reynolds, who had been standing a lit-
tle behind his superior, had been star-
ing with hypnotic fascination at Bess-
Istra from the moment they had come
into the room. Bill felt much the same,
only worse. There was something about
this girl which rang warning gongs in
his brain, but at the same time she made
him experience an emotion that was
overwhelming — -and frightening.

She said huskily to the Reverend
John Stevens, “You wrong us when you
infer that we could intend the conquest

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

of your planet — a planet where a God
named the Lord rules. Nol Our pur-
pose is different — our purpose is kind-
ly 1”

“What — ” The man named Bandro
spoke sharply, but cut himself off, his
mottled dark eyes suddenly lidding.

“Yesl” spoke Bess-Istra. Her breath
came more quickly. “You know, men
of the planet Earth, that we are now
speaking your language. Does this
seem like magic to you? It is not. By
means of an instrument which we, in
our language, call the vothet, but which
is a great deal like the hypnobioscope
invented years ago by one of your coun-
trymen, we were able to transfer from
your subconscious minds much detailed
information.”

Bill remembered the helmets. “Yes,”
he nodded. “You learned the language
that way, then?”

“Learned,” she said, “not only the
language, but also much about the
planet Earth. For instance the nations
of your planet are at war, are they

not?”

Bill’s mind was brought back sudden-
ly to a remembrance of the conscience-
less hordes of Nazis and Nipponese
who were bringing misery and ghastly
destruction to the world.

She added softly, “And the Allied
nations of your world have their backs
to the wall, are fighting a hopeless bat-
tle, are they not? In the Pacific the
Japanese are throttling you. In Italy,
the Nazis are about to trap Allied
armies. Your cause is well-nigh lost!
In another few months, the democratic
nations of the world will be at the mercy
of beasts! It is true?”

And Bill knew it was true! Few
men dared to believe that it was true.
They fought on, refusing to believe they
were already doomed. But this girl,
from out of the deeps of space, could
look at the whole picture v/ithout pre-

judice. She knew! And she —

He drew his breath in suddenly. A
startled thought swept across his mind.

“You mean — ?” he cried.

“Yes!” The glorious face of Bess-
Istra seemed transfigured with an inner
glow.

“Men of Earth,” she cried, her voice
a clarion peal, “we who have come from
space are going to stop the war and
spread peace and contentment through-
out the world!”

CHAPTER IV

“—Beleaguered Isle of Madagascar!"

^0 STOP the war!

The thought seized at the inner-
most cells of Bill’s brain. He grew
dizzy with it.

He was not a sentimental sort of per-
son. He had deliberately hardened
himself to witnessing misery and death
in their worst forms. The possibility
that these mysterious people from the
stars, with their super-science, could
bring to an end the conflict scouring
the world free of every decent human
thought, awoke in him a choking hope.

Did she mean it? Could she mean it?
Or were her words a mockery? Was she
truly the devilish creature that the
young missionary thought her; that Bill
thought her? No! To have the hope
withdrawn would be too much to bear.

Bill swiftly looked at the other occu-
pants of the room. He whom Bess-
Istra called Bandro stood fork-legged,
face impassive, but with his eyes lidding
his secret thoughts. Near him stood
the shorter, stockier being with the glit-
tering eyes; he was looking at Bess-
Istra, lips curled in a vain, meaningless
smirk. The Reverend John Stevens’
jaw was hanging; but it was Stevens
who broke the pulsing silence.

The zeal of his religion was in his

AMAZING STORIES

eyes. Somehow he was standing
straighter, somehow his eyes were flash-
ing with a godly fire. But this time,
Bill w^as thankful to see, no austerely
dogmatic cry erupted from his throat.
Instead, there an humble dignity to his
words.

“Mistress Bess,” he said humbly, “if
I have offended you with my suspicions,
I pray your indulgence. But I was
wrong — wTong! I had thought you to
be the devil’s own, but this offer of
yours, to free the world from a despe-
rate, horrible tyranny — well, the
thought can have originated in none but
a good and true mind. I — ”

Her gold-flecked eyes were gazing at
him oddly. “Good and true?” Her
eyes brooded, narrowed, as if she were
struggling with a thought that stunned
her.

“Yes, yes! For after all, and I quote:
‘He who loveth not his brother whom he
hath seen, how can he love his God
whom he hath not seen?’ Mistress Bess,
we are all children of God, though we
worship him under other names; and so
now, if your intentions are indeed what
you say, I throw open my heart to you,
I give you my love—”

“Ixnay on the ovelay!” Bill van
Astor-Smythe sang out. He was grin-
ning. “Cut it out, parson! What he
means, hlistress Bess, is that your offer
to save the world for Roosevelt and
Cliurchill rings the bell with all of us!
And how!”

His excitement overrode any re-
straint he might have had in the pres-
ence of a beautiful girl.

“You mean you actually could do it?
Slap down the ears of those dirty yellow
streaks? Drive Hitler and his bunch
back to the last front?”

T>ESS-ISTRA still looked at Stevens,
at his boyish, radiant face, his
eager blue eyes; still looked at him, as

if his wmrds lingered in her mind. Then
she returned her attention to Bill. She
studied him. She began to smile. She
threw an amused look at Bandro and
the other.

“Speak to him, Sab-Hallo. Tell him
of what we could do.”

The stocky, broadshouldered man
known as Sab-Hallo smirked. He ad-
dressed Bill, hi.': glittering, self-pleased
eyes holding Bill’s as if in contempt.

“The vothet, the machine which
taught us your language and something
of your world, gave us a general pic-
ture of the war which is being waged
on this planet. It is a devastating war,
of course, but nothing to what we on
our planet — ”

“Sab-Hallo!” Bess-Istra spoke.

He bit at his tongue and cringed a
little. He said humbly, “I v^^as merely
about to remark that on our planet, al-
though we excelled in the arts of peace,
our science was such that w^e had great
and marvelous -weapons stored away in
secret places. These weapons we have
brought with us in our epochal flight
across the void. They are weapons be-
sides which your artillery and bullet-
throwing guns are as nothing; your air-
planes, your battleships, your tank,
your deadliest gases and bombs — these
are children’s toys. On this impervious,
practically indestructible ship which I,
Sab-Hallo, have constructed, we have
wea{X)ns which can level whole armies.”

“Yes.” Bess-Istra took up the tale
smoothly. “As we shall level and des-
troy the armies of those who menace
the freedom of your world — ”

“No!” Stevens cried the single denial,
pleading in his voice. His arms ex-
tended. “Mistress Bess, we must not!
If we are going to bring salvation to the
world, can we not do it peacefully,
bloodlessly? For if we bring the peace
we cannot do it through hate. Justice
is the Lord’s!”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

“Hold everything,” Bill interposed
swiftly. “Back down, Johnny! You
don’t look gift horses in the mouth — ”

And Bess-Istra interrupted him, her
eyes wide on Stevens and his out-
stretched hands. “Stay!” she com-
manded. She spoke musingly, “Yes, it
can be done. Why — why, a bloodless
victory!” The thought seemed to stun
her.

He who was known as Bandro strode
forward, his heavy metal-braid sleeves
slapping against his smoothly muscled
arms.

“But — but, Mistress Bessl” he burst
out in what seemed like anger. “This
has never been your manney — ”

She faced him. Her lip curled. “Quiet,
Bandro,” she exclaimed. She smiled,
tawnily, voluptuously, and her eyes
lidded. “After all,” she said in a softer,
more yielding tone, “are not these our
friends? Do we not desire to please
them?”

For a long moment he returned her
gaze. Then his anger dissipated and he
strode woodenly back to his place.

“Very well,” he spoke at last, into
the silence that settled. His lips curled
into a peculiarly crooked smile which
made Bill shiver. “Do as you wish, my
lady,” he murmured, and there was a
slight sarcastic tone to the words. “You
have ever chosen to amuse yourself by
strange means.”

CHE whirled toward him, and the dou-
ble-lensed pistol at her side was in
her hand and directed toward him.
“Mark you, Bandro!” she cried in a
tone of rage. “Once before you stood
against me — but I reinstated you, made
you my second in command; forgave
you. But your insolence cannot longer
be brooked. Will you stand in the way
of this great — ah — mission which I seek
to undertake for the . . . the good of
our fellow men?”

Bandro stood still, faint contempt in
his eyes.

She sheathed her weapon with a slid-
ing clatter. “See to it then!”

Abruptly, all passion was gone from
her face. Bill made a mental note that
here was a girl who might appreciate a
good punch to the jaw at the opportune
moment. Damned if he’d ever let her
pull a gun on him! But in the mean-
time it might be more to the point to
play along with her.

He kept his thoughts to himself, as
Bess-Istra turned to him, her full scar-
let lips pursed with what Bill knew was
deliberate coquetry. Knowing it didn’t
seem to be any antidote. His heart beat
painfully. And she must have guessed
the emotions in his breast, for a half
taunting light grew in her glorious,
lidded eyes.

He said huskily, with just the shade
of counteracting insolence that was
necessary to set her back a trifle on
her heels, “Okay, Bess! Where do we
go from here? We’ve got a world to
save! And every minute we stand here
making with the gab somebody dies
that shouldn’t have to.”

Her mouth tightened imperceptibly,
but she immediately regained her
balance.

“We begin where you, Bill van Astor-
Smythe, say,” she said coolly. “The
vothet, as you may guess, is not power-
ful enough to cause all the information
we drew from your brains to be im-
pressed on our brains. The complete
picture of world events is not before us.
But you, being a— a reporter? — ^you
would know of such things. Command
me then, 0 Bill. To which battle-front
shall we proceed — and shall we destroy,
or merely render our enemy helpless?”

The Reverend John Stevens’ eyes
were shining with a godly joy. He
grasped Bill’s arm.

“Brother,” he cried, “good tidings at

AMAZING STORIES

last sweep across the world. Peace and
good will toward men is at last to be a
reality. Praise the Loord! And may
I make a suggestion?”

Bill was faced with a staggering de-
cision. Where to start on this impos-
sibly monumental task? “Go ahead,”
he invited dazedly.

“As a trial action,” Stevens said
glowingly, “why not save Madagascar
and Mozambique from the damned
Japanese?”

The idea caught in Bill's brain like
tinder. He snapped his fingers. “Swell!”
he cried. He whirled on the voicelessly
watching girl, paying no attention to
the ironic mirth in her barbaric, gold-
flecked eyes; nor to the enigmatic half-
smiles of Sal-Hallo and Bandro. He
began to talk in rapid staccato fashion,
outlining the plan that had come to him.

Across Bess-Istra’s face flashed re-
spect. “You would make a good strat-
egist on my own planet,” she murmured
speculatively.

“You had wars on your own planet
then?” Bill demanded, eyelids flicking
upward, in the beginnings of startle-
ment.

She momentarily seemed to bite at
her lip. She said easily, “No . . . no, of
course not. Many thousands of years
ago, O Bill, there were terrible wars.
But in the era in which I lived all was
peace and prosperity, and men loved
each other.”

CHE flirted a casual look at Stevens.

Stevens was so excited, Bill thought,
that he would very likely blow a cylin-
der if some steam wasn’t let off. This
was his dish. An angel had come from
Heaven who sorrowed for the woes of
men and was magically empowered to
put a stop to it.

Bill felt a faint thrust of alarm, mo-
mentarily. Something — what was it?—
didn’t seem quite right. Oh, nutsl His

touch of malaria was making him ner-
vous.

Bess-Istra now turned with a silky
motion toward Sab-Hallo.

“The ship is ready to lift, all my
soldiers are awake, and have eaten, and
are ready to stand at their posts to re-
ceive orders to operate their weapons
should we have need of them.”

“All can be made ready within a few
of those Earth units of lime called the
minute. But the only weapons we will
need to accomplish our task are those
I shall operate from the control room,
Mistress Bess.”

“Good!” Be.ss-Istra drew a sharp
breath. Her eyes sparkled with an ex-
citement that had suddenly drenched
the very air. “Are 'we ready? Then to
the control room, Sab-Hallo! Lift the
ship out over the great sea which Bill
says is to the east — and find the Japa-
nese supply fleet which is at this mo-
ment sailing with munitions and rein-
forcements toward the beleaguered isle
of Madagascar! ”

CHAPTER V

Soft Belly of the Axis Dragon

“^HERE it is!”

Bill was sitting in an accelera-
tion chair, part of a semicircle of people
who leaned backward and looked up at
a broad white view -screen, which
showed a perfect picture of the cobalt,
white-capped ocean spread out below.

The ship, a mere thirty minutes ago,
had leaped up into the sky with a tre-
mendous burst of speed. And there
was no acceleration! One hardly knew
one was moving, for the acceleration
chairs created an etheric field which
robbed each atom of an accelerating
body of its inertia.

Seated in the semi-circle were Bess-
Istra, Bandro, the Reverend John Stev-

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

ens, and Bill van Astor-Smythe.

Thomas Reynolds had pleaded of his
superior to be allowed to go back to
the mission. He was a simple soul, and
confessed that these strangely alien
people frightened him. Stevens was
glad to let him go, for the mission
needed someone to tend it. Reynolds
left the ship before it left the ground.

Bill was pointing to a fan-shaped
area of white-caps now. It was miles
below, but it was certainly the wake
churned up by the Japanese fleet.

The space-ship plunged down out of
the stratosphere toward its goal. Ex-
citement plucked at Bill’s nerves, sent
the blood singing through his veins.
Could these people actually do what
they claimed to do? It seemed im-
po.ssible!

He glanced sidewise at Bess-Istra.
Her scarlet lips were parted with the
same excitement Bill felt. She was
watching the growing fleet with interest.
Bill saw clumsy cargo ships with deep
wells and thick funnels. There must
have been a dozen of them, loaded with
packing cases which were filled with
enough munitions to keep the Japs on
Madagascar and Mozambique going;
would keep them supplied until the
Allies surrendered.

The ships were closely bunched. Ex-
cept for two destroyers they were trav-
eling without convoy.

But as the space-ship dropped to-
ward the fleet, there were signs of
action. Sailors on deck went mad. And
suddenly from each of the ships came
flashes of fire and an appalling racket
like continuous summer thunder. They
were firing two-inch shells !

At the same time, the convoying de-
stroyers stepped up their paces a notch,
and from their funnels poured thick
streams of smoke! At the same time
the destroyers erupted with anti-air-
craft fire.

Bill winced, knowing that no ship
could stand up under that withering
fire. But Sab-Hallo suddenly burst into
a titter of delight.

“Pitifull” he cried, “They think to
harm my wonderful ship — seek to harm
the ship which even fierce-driven mete-
ors could not damage. The fools — the
useless fools! Mistress Bess, say the
word, and I shall show them the might
of our planet — shall utterly destroy and
sink their fleet with one blow!”

She bent on him a cold, withering
glance. “Do so and it will be your lot
to join them. Render them helpless and
drifting— it is all I require.”

Bandro now turned in his chair with
the motion of a panther. He spoke in
a low fierce tone, the dark furrows of a
vast impatience over his brow. “Why
should we spare them, Mistress Bess?
They are trouble makers! They and
their nation must be completely negated
before our — before the plan can suc-
ceed! Before the peace can be con-
summated. Was it ever your man-
ner — ”

“It is my manner now! ” She spoke
slowly, as if puzzling over something.
Then she shrugged. She smiled a hard,
peculiar smile and snapped at Sab-
Hallo: “Drop closer! Spew their ships
from stem to sterns with the golden
disks. At once, for there are things to
do and this is a larger world even than
that one from which we came.”

“It is good, my lady,” muttered Sab-
Hallo, sullenly.

His deft long fingers touched at a
control sequence on the console board —
and Bill saw a beautiful sight!

^ OLDEN disks, thousands of them,
^ spinning rapidly, fell from the
belly of the space-ship, swiftly ap-
proached the cargo ship directly be-
neath them. Bill heard the missionary
give a cry of unbelief as those golden

AMAZING STORIES

disks spun through the decks and dis-
appeared; touched at the chattering
guns and seemed to be sucked into the
metal of the guns.

And those chattering machine guns,
which threw two-inch shells with in-
credible rapidity, ceased their fire —
jammed! And at the same time ac-
quired a brilliant golden glow.

And then the cargo ship, aswarm with
panic-stricken Japs, began to lose head-
way. Smoke ceased to pour from its
funnels. It lost speed.

But by that time, the space-ship had
darted toward another Japanese craft,
straight into its futile anti-aircraft fire.
.\gain the golden disks spun rapidly
downward — and again! Within five
minutes after the space-ship had at-
tacked, the Japanese weapons were en-
tirely silenced, and the whole fleet was
an aimless flotilla of flotsam!

A fleet unable to move under its own
power!

“And Madagascar is two hundred
miles away!’’ cried Stevens, pound-
ing his fist exultantly, yet softly, re-
strainedly, on the arm of his accelera-
tion chair. “Oh, this is indeed a great
day for man ! ”

“But — but how did it work?” Bill
cried, amazed. “Bess — Mistress Bess
or whatever — ”

She shrugged carelessly- “It was
nothing. The golden disks were but
magnetic force-fields which had an
affinity for metal. They act as staples
which bind the moving parts of a ma-
chine together so tightly that no force
can sunder them. The Japanese fleet
will float helplessly until after we have
made the peace!”

“And when the Japs discover that
those men and supplies they needed
aren’t coming through they’ll know they
can’t keep on fighting,” Bill breathed
joyously. “They’ll retrench, try to
consolidate their gains. The Tommies

will follow them up and hack them to
pieces. Wow!”

He suddenly let out a yell that made
Bandro leap to his feet with a curse
that turned Stevens’ face red, even
though the curse was made in another
tongue.

“Wfliere’s my typewriter? Vve got a
deadline to meet!”

Deadline!

And Bill van Astor-Smythe, legman
extraordinary for the New York Corey
Features Syndicate, made that deadline
— and a hundred more infinitely more
important.

Scoop after scoop I Scoops for which
any journalist would give thirty of the
ripest years of his life!

Bess-Istra, the glorious mystery girl
from the stars, had smiled with in-
dulgent patience at Bill that day after
he yelled for his typewriter.

“Of course,” she said smoothly. “You
will want to let your people know what
is happening. So be it! Bandro, lead
our great friend Bill to a room where
he can be uninterrupted.”

BILL went away with Bandro,
Stevens was talking with Bess-
Istra, quoting eager reams of Biblical
quotations, his face on fire. And Bess-
Istra was listening with complete at-
tention, an odd, thoughtful expression
in her eyes.

Bandro turned with his hand on the
knob of the door of the room to
w'hich he had brought Bill. A curious
malevolence was naked on his face.

“I wish to give you a warning, friend
Bill,” he said when he had Bill’s atten-
tion. “Do not look with too bold an
eye on her who is known as Bess-
Istra!”

Bill put his hands on his hips.
“Hands off, eh!” he snapped. “Sez
who? You haven’t got a lease on the
pretty maiden, have you?”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

Bandro took three quick steps to-
ward him, nostrils flaring. “Fool!” he
sneered. “You will be caught in her
toils like numberless others. Know you
not that she is not what she seems?”

“Know you not that it isn’t any of
your business whether I do or don’t
know? — and quit talking behind a
lady’s back!”

They glared at each other.

Bill said, levelly, harshly, “Let’s you
and me get off on the right foot, Bandro.
1 don’t like you. I never will like you.
Get it?”

Bandro was voiceless. His gray skin
grew dark. He at last said in a stran-
gled voice,

“We will remember that, friend
Bill!”

He turned, was gone, and Bill wrin-
kled his nose and said, “Nuts!”

Within less than a minute, he was at-
tacking his typewriter in a very frenzy
of creation.

He was halfway through his story
when Bess-Istra entered the room. Bill
ripped a sheet from his typewriter in a
daze. He rose awkwardly, face flushed.

“Forgive me, my friend Bill,” she
said smoothly; “but I have gone to the
trouble to make your story credible to
the outside world. Are you yet finished
with it?”

“A half-hour yet,” Bill said dazedly.
Then his eyes sharpened. He said
slowly, “Yes . . . yes, of course, I will
have trouble making my editor believe.
But how have you — ?”

“Finish your story,” she cried. There
was a warm, almo.st childish delight in
her voice. “And then I will show you ! ”

Bill finished his story, but curiosity
was rife in him. He read over the type-
written pages, and a huge grin of satis-
faction spread over his face, which was
beginning to acquire a reddish growth
of beard.

“Boy ! ” He whispered to himself, lov-

ingly stuffing the manuscript into one
of the legal-size envelopes he kept with
his typewriter. “Hot stuff!”

He looked up at Bess-Istra, wander-
ing through the gleaming, instrument-
studded interior of the great ship. She
led him to an alcove where Stevens,
Bandro, and Sab-Hallo were standing.
Nearby, next to a slanting board with
red buttons, a metal-braid clad soldier
stood. Bess-Istra motioned to him.

He pressed a stud — and the entire
side of the alcove fell away, letting in
the daylight of the outside world; and
as the gang-plank touched and was
still, Bill cried out in unbelief.

The ship had landed on the roof of
the New York Corey Features Syndi-
cate Building!

T>ILL knew that was so because, two
blocks away was the Empire State
Building. Bill had often seen that gi-
gantic structure from this roof.

But mostly he knew it because a half-
hundred of the employees of the New
York Corey Features Syndicate had
surrounded the ship, yelling and run-
ning, and waving their hands excitedly.

Stevens’ eyes were bulging. “New
York City!” he gasped. He almost
looked frightened. He had never seen
any city bigger than Mozambique or
Lorenzo Marques.

“By — the unholy — hinges of —
Hell!” Bill said, spacing the syllables
out. “What the — ” But he got the
idea. Nobody could fail to believe this
story now — particularly with his editor
standing in the forefront of the crowd
over there, jaw hanging slack.

Bill burst into an excited roar.

“Mac!” he yelled. ^'MacV*

He raced from the gangplank onto
the roof; he grabbed the dazed man’s
hand, shouting senseless things. Then
he thrust the manuscript into his hand.

“Print this! Spread it over the front

AMAZING STORIES

page of every newspaper that wants to
pay a fancy price for a first-hand ac-
count of the saving of the world! I’ll
get you a story a day from now on,
until it’s over over there. And my per-
centage jumps from 60% to 80% !
Okay?”

“Okay!” gasped the startled editor.
“But— but what — that is — Bill — ” He
floundered.

“Save it!” he laughed joyously.
“You’ll get the whole story from that
manuscript. Goo’bye!”

He turned, sped into the interior of
the ship, and the gangplank soughed
into place behind him. And a few sec-
onds later, the ship from the stars
hurled into the air toward “the soft
belly of the Axis dragon” — toward
Italy!

For, Bill had decided, there lay the
next logical striking point against the
monstrous forces that were throttling
the world!

CHAPTER VI

Victory on the Second Front

"DESS-ISTRA stood close to Bill. He
could feel her bare arm on his as
they looked into the view-plate. He
wondered if she were doing it intention-
ally. It was doing things to his insides.

“There’s Italy!” he exclaimed.' “The
real European Second Front. It was
preceded by the battle for Tunisia.
When the Allies won that, they had the
whole coast of North Africa for a jump-
ing-off place to attack Hitler; for North
Africa was, in effect, an airplane carrier
... a big one!”

Bandro stroked at his sharp-pointed
chin. The ship was dropping slowly
downward and forward, following the
low mountain range that girds the west
coast of the Roman boot.

“And the war strategy of the Allies —

of your inadequately armed American
forces?”

“They may have been inadequately
armed from the standpoint of what you
think IS adequate,” Bill retorted, dislik-
ing the insolence which Bandro at times
deliberately put into his tones, “but
from our standpoint we had the goods!
Had it! But now the Americans and
the English, three hundred thousand of
them, are about to enter another Dun-
kirk!”

His face was pale with agony as he
said it. He hadn’t realized until he
had listened to a newscast which Bess-
Istra had picked up for him that the
Allies were facing such a black future
in Europe. Now they were dying like
flies.

“As for their strategy, they ham-
mered Italy from Africa with hundreds
of big bombers, destroying port after
port. But the Italian navy, com-
manded and manned by Germans, es-
caped and is loose in the Mediter-
ranean. That navy played hell when
we ferried men across the sea from
Tunis to Italy. But the British navy
chased them, and halfway up the coast
of Italy, where the mountain range
breaks, we landed our armies. For
awhile it seemed like things were going
good, but Hitler meanwhile was bring-
ing in reinforcements from the Russian
front and the Vichy French forces were
drafted, too.

“The Allies, in the first week of
fighting, completely drove across the
middle of Italy to the Ionian Sea, cut-
ting off all communications in the boot
part of Italy. But in the next three
months the Nazis proved too much for
them. As things stand now the hard-
fought for position in Italy will be en-
tirely lost.”

“The inhumanity of man to man,”
said Stevens hopelessly. “And after
the war, what plan of action will keep

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

down the beast in man — keep it down
forever?”

Sab-Hallo laughed a high-pitched
laugh and rubbed his hands together.
His eyes were gloating. “We shall solve
that problem, too,” he said throatily.
“There are few problems that my
genius cannot solve. “For instance, I
have a — ”

“Quiet!” Bess-Istra snapped. “Your
genius will earn you an early death if
you do not remember that I command
you in all things.”

“Very well, my lady,” the squat,
broad-shouldered scientist said sullenly.
But Bill, watching him, saw a grim look
pass between him and the perpetually
sneering Bandro.

JDESS-ISTRA gripped Bill’s arm. Bill
found himself looking deep into her
barbaric eyes. And he knew they were
barbaric. He knew that she was wilful,
strong of mind, ready to temper, thor-
oughly spoiled — dangerous, maybe.
And yet his attraction for her, deadly
though it was, was growing, no matter
how hard he fought it. And he knew
that she knew it — for now there as a
taunting mockery in the impertinent
curl of her full red lips.

“And now,” she breathed, “if we ren-
der the enemy army helpless, if we en-
tirely destroy resistance, the Allies will
be able to gain control of all Italy, will
be able to depose this large-jawed man
called Mussolini.”

“And not only that,” Bill said vi-
brantly, “but our armies will be ready
to pour into Germany! For Hitler will
simply be unprepared for this blow. He
won’t be able to muster his forces.”

“So be it,” she spoke coolly, and
turned to Sab-Hallo. “When the moun-
tains break, turn eastward until we
come to the front where these gallant,
Allies are dying. We shall destroy all
resistance with the gas-ray 1”

The ship hurled into a sudden
speed and the sky without, arching
over the post - card - pretty Mediter-
ranean, blurred. And when the ship
stopped, they were looking down at the
battle — a battle that made Bill’s blood
run cold! He knew that never before
had man seen such horror. Never had
so many and such murderous weapons
of artillery been gathered in one place;
nor so many tanks; nor, if it were
known, had men fought with such
ferocity.

Although in this part of the world it
was early afternoon, the only light was
that furnished by frantic search-beams
stabbing the sky for dive-planes; by
cannon — mostly 155-mm. howitzers,
Bill guessed, supported by 75s and
100s — which belched fire that was pur-
plish-red like the blood of reptiles; by
tracer-bullets leaping across devastated
open spaces from hidden pill-boxes
where machine-guns chattered.

No light, except from these weapons!
For a black pall of smoke lingered from
horizon to horizon.

But in that light, Bill saw great tanks
spitting out their death at retreating
Allied soldiers. Saw heaps of bodies
bloodying that never-to-be-forgotten
battle-field.

And then, as the ship from the stars
hovered, he saw field artillery turned
upward!

Bill was aghast. “Those damned
Nazis are firing at us! ” he cried wildly.
“They’ll bring us down before we can
accomplish our purpose!”

And indeed, little puffs of light were
exploding about and near the ship.

“No!” Stevens was pale. He stam-
mered, without conviction, “No! The
Lord is just. Though we walk in the
valley of the shadow of death, he will
not permit us to die when our mission
is so great!”

“That God Whom you call the Lord,”

AMAZING STORIES

said Bess-Istra, and Bill for the life of
him could not tell whether she was be-
ing serious or faintly sarcastic, “must
indeed be powerful. For this ship is
impervious to ordinary missiles such as
those. Indeed, only the green ray of
death and disintegration could harm
it. Still,” she added, apparently in
deepest thought, “it does not seem
probable that your God the Lord would
have had the foresight to have created
this ship solely for the purpose of de-
feating your enemies.”

The Reverend John Stevens said seri-
ously, solemnly, “But it may well be
the case, Mistress Bess. He works in
strange ways his wonders to perform.”

There was an ironic, retrospective
smile to her lips, and her eyes were
lidded, as if they were gazing backward
along the trail of memory. “Strange,”
she muttered, and her voice was curi-
ously metallic. “A strange god indeed
that does not bid its worshippers to
strive arrogantly and impetuously,
cruelly, for power. In my province,
where I was born, there was a god
who — But stay! This is foolishness.
Sab-Hallo, on this Axis army which
seems likely to defeat our friends the
Allies, you will use the gas-ray! And
use it until all their legions have fallen
in stupid slumber, easy prey for the
embattled Tommies and Yanks!”

^HE gas-ray! In the next two hours,
the two natives of the embattled
planet Earth saw that alien weapon
used with awful effect. Sab-Hallo
touched a stud on the edge of the in-
strument panel. And Bill saw a soft,
yellow-spangled cone of light flick
downward toward that anti-aircraft
battery which was pouring a solid
stream of projectiles toward the hover-
ing space-ship.

Almost immediately, the very air
within a hundred feet glittered with in-

ternal atomic-explosions. Little motes
danced prismatically, beautifully, and
seemed to be sucked toward the humans
— toward the Nazis who operated the
gun. Swept toward them, was help-
lessly breathed in by them.

And they — jell! Fell on the ground
by the tens. And then by the hundreds,
as the beam flicked toward other firing
units, and still others.

And an hour passed. Bill didn’t know
how the Americans and British felt, but
he could guess. For all along that fifty-
mile battle-line, a strange cylindrical
ship was moving, and a mighty army,
certain of victory, was being plunged
into the maddest kind of panic.

The very air surrounding every
enemy unit, every tank and fox-hole
and pill-box, was turned to a deadly
gas which dropped men like flies!

And the Allies, grim men in olive
drab, were rushing in to consolidate
those miraculously harmless positions.
It was probable that they had by this
time seen the ship from space, and knew
it was responsible. It was also prob-
able, that by this time, the news con-
cerning the ship from space had already
been printed in innumerable newspa-
pers, and by this time was being broad-
cast over the radio. But Bill was too
fascinated to pick up such a broadcast
from Bess-Istra’s tele-radio.

At the end of the second hour. Bill
was weak and limp from excitement.
“Thank God for small favors, Johnny,”
he whispered. “It’s done! Can you
imagine it? The biggest German army
ever assembled in one spot — and it's out
of commission!"

“I have already thanked God,” the
young missionary stated. “Nor do I
think. Bill, that it was a small favor.
What we have seen is the real begin-
ning of the end. We can win no greater
victory — for this is victory! Peace will
soon come to the planet Earth!”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

CHAPTER VII

The Capture of Adolph Hitler

A ND never in the history of the
^ world was a war ended so quickly
and so bloodlessly!

MUSSOLINI FLEES ROME!

Aboard The Ship From The Stars,
Jidy IQ — (CF) — Today an era ends.
A Fascist tyrant who became the mili-
tary tool of the most hated man in the
world is in disorganized retreat from the
seat oj his hoped-for empire.

This morning I saw the complete con-
quest of the German army stemming
the advance of Allied troops into Italy.
That news has already been flashed to
the world: how the gas-ray, the utterly
strange weapon of another world, ren-
dered the Nazi forces helpless; how the
Allies, sneering from almost certain de-
feat, swept toward Rome on the tide of
certain victory; and by late tomorrow,
1 assure you, will have spread their rule
over all of Italy.

But at noon today, through the mys-
terious TELE-ray of Bess-Istra, /
searched out Mussolini himself, saw
him sitting in session extraordinary
with his ministers. The session ended
with a nerve-wracked man’s complete
nervous collapse. His ministers were
little better off. I followed them as they
ran from the chamber, took a private
car for the airfield, where they board a
transport plane.

They are in that plane now — bound
for Germany, like dogs running home
to their master!

“And where shall we attack next, O
Bill?” inquired Bess-Istra. The faint
insolence on her lips lingered as a taunt-
ing reminder to Bill that he was playing
with dynamite merely by standing so
close to her.

As the planet Earth might be playing
with dynamite by accepting her favor?

He broke off the momentary thought
with a deep shudder that shook his very
soul.

In answer to her question, he spoke
again, gutturally: “To the Russian
front!”

And to the Russian front went the
ship from the stars. Went there — and
left again within an hour and a half.
And behind it was a German army of
soldiers whose eyes were suddenly
blank with lost memories.

Guns dropped from their hands.

They wandered aimlessly on the
blood-drenched ground south of the
River Don.

Half-track tractors hauling l5S-mm.
howitzers, captured from the Russians
earlier in the war, continued to move —
but their bearded, unutterably bedrag-
gled drivers gazed stupidly at the con-
trols until the engines of war crashed
into a tree or rolled down into a culvert
and turned over.

Tanks kept on going, witlessly, until
they turned over, pawning at the air with
their madly clanking caterpillar treads.

Artillery ceased to fire when gunner
crews sat down on the ground and
picked preoccupiedly at their nails.

Transports crossing the Baltic loaded
with men stopped after awhile and
drifted, for the black gang no longer
remembered such things as coal and
engines and boilers; and the captains
on the bridge merely stood and looked
dumbly at the bluish fog that rolls on
the Baltic swells. . . .

And later, along the German-fortified
west coast of Europe, men also turned
dumb as from the ship of Bess-Istra
came a high-frequency vibration that
short-circuited mental synapses; or
were stricken into unknowing slumber
as the gas-ray got in its work.

From the north the Russians came.

AMAZING STORIES

From the south, the American and
British Allied forces. And from the
west, Great Britain launched an inva-
sion of France and Norway; and met
no resistance.

Three armies swept toward Berlin as
internal revolution broke. . . .

The day of Adolph Hitler was over.

And the day of Hirohito!

“ A SIA offers no greater problem,”
spoke Bill van Astor-Smythe
grimly. “Japan has bitten off more
than she can chew in China. China is
not conquered — hardly occupied. Oh,
the cities and villages and hamlets have
been taken along the coast, and far in-
land. Chungking has fallen. But —
holding a city doesn’t mean that you
hold the land surrounding that cityl
There are the guerrilla fighters who rule
the open spaces between the cities, who
harass Japanese troop movements and
communication lines and have given the
Japs quaking nerves. All we have to
do is to render the Japanese of those
cities powerless so that the native citi-
zens and the guerrillas can overthrow
them. But — ^well, but how?”

Bess-Istra drew her dark brows
frowningly down toward her gold-
flecked eyes. “Well?” she demanded.
“Sam-Hallo — ^how?”

The squat scientist’s wide-set eyes
held hers with a studied impatience.
He said acidly, “There is no problem,
if we but sweep such cities with psy-
chotic waves that will set Japs and Chi-
nese against each other, and provide
ample advantage for the guerrillas to
enter and take command.”

She took a step toward him, her hand
falling to the gun at her hip. She said
tunelessly, “This war will be ended so
that we do not kill either friend or en-
emy, Sab-Hallo!”

“Friends!” the scientist cried, sweep-

ing the Reverend John Stevens and Bill
van Astor-Smythe with a scathing look.
“They are not your — ”

“Cease, Sab-Hallo!”

The command did not come from
Bess-Istra, but from Bandro. The tall
man’s eyes were flashing with anger.
He thundered at Sab-Hallo, “It is not
your place to question our mistress!
She is right, of course. We shall bring
peace to this planet — peacefully!”

The fire died from Sab-Hallo’s broad
face. There was a moment of silence
while his eyes searched Bandro’s. And
Bill could have sworn that something
flickered between them, some under-
standing. What?

Sab-Hallo’s shoulders fell in resig-
nation. “Very well, Mistress Bess,” he
said smoothly. “I have a weapon which
will vanquish these Japs so that the
guerrillas can come in without chance
of harm. The fire-ring!”

By the end of that day, Bill had an-
other story to write.

From the belly of the ship, as it
hovered over a village, a swiftly ex-
panding fire-ring was hurled; much as
a smoke-ring is puffed from the throat.
This fire-ring grew, both in size and in
brilliance — and it dropped over the Jap-
controlled village as a cowboy would
drop a noose over a running horse’s
head!

And like the noose of a riata, the fire-
ring began to contract.

It contracted slowly. Bill saw shop-
keepers come bursting from their doors
in mad excitement as the ring rolled
along the ground toward them; saw
Japs, darting through the streets, Japs
who knew that this was another strange
weapon released from that ship which
had paralyzed their allies in Europe.

There was panic in that village. The
ring swept through solid structures
without harm, rolled on its way unim-
paired. Neither Chinese nor Japs

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

dared to get near that ring, nor to
hurdle it. Consequently, they were all
huddled in the center of the city in a
tight knot, unable to flee anywhere.

The ring came on; some Chinese
leaped in it — without harm! But be-
fore others could follow their example,
the fiery ring contracted to its center,
rolling through the huddled people — •
and winked out.

Apparently nothing had happened.

T>UT something had. For suddenly
^ the vastly more numerous towns-
people attacked the Japs, probably feel-
ing that since this was a weapon, it had
been used for their benefit. And they
were right. For as the Jap soldiers at-
tempted to fight back, their guns did
not fire!

The ring of fire’s only function — but
a powerful one — was to eat up and to
entirely dissipate a chemical without
which gunpowder is not gun-powder;
the ring had simply destroyed all the
sulphur in that village!

By the end of that day, fire-rings had
been looped over Shanghai, Hong-
Kong — and Singapore. . . .

Outnumbered Japs were swarmed
over, made prisoner, and a liberated
Asia started to go mad with joy. And in
Tokyo, when a shining, cylindrical ship
floated with the nonchalance of com-
plete confidence over that city, high
officials realized that the game had run
its course. The members of that dia-
bolical society known as the ‘^‘black
dragon” committed hara-kiri down to
the last man.

In Australia, Japanese morale was
broken, and the army which had gained
a foothold on the north coast retreated
with dreadful losses, and that same day
was utterly destroyed when the trans-
ports on which they sought to make
their escape were sunk by American
B-24’s.

In Java, the natives rose in one sav-
age wave of revolt and swept over their
hated conquerors. The French East
Indies again raised the French flag.

Bill directed Bess-Istra in this su-
preme undertaking that enveloped the
whole world, and literally knocked from
under them the legs of the would-be
totalitarian conquerers of the w o r 1 d.
And now, as a crashing finale, he made
his last suggestion, which Bess-Istra
indulgently acted upon.

In Tokyo, an utterly black beam
speared down from the belly of the ship,
plunged through the roof of a build-
ing decorated with hideous gargoyles,
sought its way down through level
after level, and touched a man cower-
ing against the wall; swallowed him up,
so that there was no trace of him.

The beam snapped to another corner
of the city, sought out another tootli-
some, wrinkled yellow man; similarly
swallowed him.

The ship snapped halfway around
the world in the small part of a minute.
Down the black beam dipped; again,
again, and again! Plunged into the
very heart of the council chamber
where sat a fat, cruel man, and a slim
man, and a man with a large jaw, and
a man with a lock of hair hanging down
over his ghastly pale forehead. And
others, of lesser import. These the
beam swallowed.

And in a chamber in the ship, after
they had been materialized there, after
they had been drawn like formless gases
upward through wnlls by the black
beam, were more than a dozen men.

All important leaders of the Axis com-
bine were prisoners of Bess-Istra!

CHAPTER vni
Mistress of Earth

TN SPITE of the fact that Bill had
been in on the ground floor of a real

AMAZING STORIES

miracle from heaven, he was stunned.
So much had happened in the last few
days that it was beyond the imagination
to comprehend.

The war was over!

“The war is over,” Bill repeated
blankly. “Johnny! Did you hear me,
boy?”

“Eh? Eh? Oh, yes!”

Bill’s typewriter played a slow, stut-
tering tune, and then went like mad.

“The folks at home don’t have to
feel like fifth-columnists if they drink
more than one and two-tenths cups of
coffee! Boy! They don’t have to steal
extra lumps of sugar from restaurants.
Huzzah! There ain’t any more of Tir-
pitz’ subs snaking along through the
seas. They gave up the fight yesterday
when they heard about Hitler. Poor,
poor Hitler! Come here, Hitler — giffs
candy und ice cream. Come here — and
I’ll smash your face in. But you ought
to be glad we’ve got you. You ought to
be glad you ain’t in Berlin, what with
the Tommies swarming all over the
place. Hmm. Same goes for Tojo and
his thugs. Too bad about Laval and
Quisling. They couldn’t take it —
Johnny, I heard that over the ^e^e-radio.
Laval and Quisling picked out some real
high buildings and jumped; squer-
rooch!” Bill laughed a little bit in-
sanely. He picked at his nails with his
teeth, staring at the typewriter as he
tried to finish a story that would be
radioed to his syndicate by Bess-Istra’s
equipment.

He didn’t hear any answering laugh
from Stevens, though.

He turned around. His jaw fell.
“Johnny!”

“I think I can do it,” Stevens whis-
pered. His chest rose and fell. He
panted, “I know I can!”

He jumped up and wildly paced the
length of the room. His eyes were wide
and staring, his lips were working over

each other in a highly nervous exalta-
tion. Bill gulped, shook his head,
blinked.

“Hold it! What gives?”

“I can do it,” Stevens whispered.

“Do what?”

“I can convert Bess-Istra!”

“Convert — ” Bill yelled the word
out, and then sank back, feeling as if
the world were coming to an end. He
leaned forward and bared his teeth:

“Why? Why in the name of God do
you want to convert her? She’s got
her own religion. She’s got her own
system of theogony. She wouldn’t want
to be converted!”

“Oh, yes, she would!” Stevens
whirled. “And why would I wish to
convert anybody except in the name
of God? We have been commanded
to go to all comers of the Earth and
preach the gospel—-”

“This isn’t a corner of the Earth!
It’s a God-forgotten piece of a planet
which existed so many years ago you
can’t think it.”

“Nothing is God - forgotten. Par-
ticularly Bess-Istra. She proves it
by listening to me. By asking me
about the Lord. She never tires.
Bill — Bill — ” Stevens’ voice suddenly
stopped; a stricken look appeared in
his eyes. His lips shook and he bit at
them. He sank down on the three-
legged chair, hands between his knees.
“Bill,” he whispered. “Bill — she is so
unutterably lovely!”

JgILL started to say something, and
the words jammed in his throat.
He jumped to his feet, holding his head
in his hands, taking three long strides
to the other end of the featureless
room, then whirling and confronting
Stevens with pity in his eyes.

“You poor hopeless idiot. You’re in
love with her!”

Stevens looked up and there was

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

nothing but a blurred pain in his in-
genuous blue eyes.

“I am,” he choked miserably. “I
am!”

“You fool! She’s been leading you
on. She’s no more interested in your
creed than that sneaking Bandro and
Sab-Hallo. She likes the idea of twist-
ing you around her little finger. She
likes to pull guns on people. She likes
to kick them around. There’s nothing
good and true in a carload of her. Con-
vert her? Don’t make me laugh.
Johnny — ” He paused in pained, hope-
less exasperation; and then whirled as
he heard a voice behind him.

“It is interesting to know in what
light you regard me, O Bill!”

Bill started to speak; then clamped
his lips. “You heard me,” he said
brutally, his glance hard on Bess-Istra.

There was cold fire in her eyes. Her
skin was white as marble, and her voice
bit like shattered glass shards.

“I will remember that, Bill!” she
grated. “I will remember that though
I have freed your planet from a terrible
bondage, you feel no gratitude. You
feel that I have an ulterior motive in-
stead.”

A hard, accusing little smile wrinkled
the corners of Bill’s mouth. “Fve been
playing my cards as I got them, Bess-
Istra. Playing them for all they were
worth. And letting the finesse take
care of itself. Unfortunately, I can’t
finesse. I’ve been having fun up to this
point — but after this — Well, Bess-
Istra — ” his voice ground out the words
“ — just what is your motive?”

“You’ve freed the world, you’ve
stopped a big war, you’ve got the trou-
ble-makers locked up tight. Fine.
Swell. That’s what you promised to
do. But how come you came to this
planet in a ship loaded to the gunwales
with the instruments of war? How
come you left your own planet at all?

Who are you? What comes after this?
Don’t hand me that line about us being
your friends. You’ve been playing a
little game and having a lot of fun —
like giving candy to children. Only
maybe the candy will give us a tummy-
achel”

Stevens’ hand bit into Bill’s arm. But
all he could do w’as to shake his head
miserably.

The color had entirely left Bess-
Istra’s face. Every muscle in her body
was visibly tensed. Her shoulders lit-
erally shook when she spoke; and her
voice jangled horribly.

“You will regret that. Bill. You will
understand how you have misjudged
Bess-Istra — some day! Know then, that
in a few minutes from the control room
of this ship I shall broadcast a message
to the peoples of Earth, a message
which will clear everything else from
the air, a message which will sound
from every open receiver in the world!

“The peoples of Earth shall soon
know my intentions with regard to them
— and so shall you!”

^^WO of Bess-Istra’s mechanics fid-
dled in the interior of the ^efe-radio
which filled one side of the control
room. Monstrous blurrup-mgs came
from the machine. Bill knew that the
ether waves of Earth were being
cleared, every station in the world liter-
ally scoured off the air by a controUed-
static.

Then the transmitter was ready!

Bill stood silently, his heart a stone
in his breast. What would Bess-Istra
say? Would she prove herself to be
what Bill thought her — or what he
wanted her to be?

Bess-Istra stepped in front of the
grating that would receive her voice.

Her glance passed over Randro, in
whose mottled dark eyes Bill saw a
hard, eagerness; and then to

AMAZING STORIES

Sab-Hallo, who stood with arms crossed
on his barrel-chest, face expressionless,
yet sardonic.

Lastly, Bess-Istra looked at Bill. At
the icy rage in her glance, Bill flinched;
but his jaw came out, and he managed
to show some of his bitter cynicism in
his own eyes. Slowly her lips tensed,
and with a pantherine motion she
twisted savagely to face the “mike.”
She made a motion to a nondescript
man, her announcer:

“Peoples of Earth, listen! Peoples
of Earth, Bess-Istra, your benefactor,
shall speak to you — now!” The man’s
deep voice rolled out over the world;
then he stepped aside, and Bess-Istra
spoke:

“I am Bess-Istra! Know my voice,
now, peoples of Earth, for you shall
hear it often. I came from the stars,
and found a planet in thrall, wr^npped
in the toils of a monstrous war, cruelly
beset by creatures whom you call Nazis
and Japs; creatures whom I believe to
be scarcely human. Seeing this, I at
once set about freeing you!

“And now you are free!

“Already, by listening to the many
broadcasts which fill the air-waves, I
can sense the mad, hysterical joy which
has taken possession of you. The war
is over! The enemy is humbled, and
everywhere Allied soldiers — the gallant
Tommies and Yanks and Aussies and
Canadians and Filipinos and Senegalese
and Fighting French and innumerable
others — have flowed into the conquered
areas. The morale of a bewildered
enemy has been hopelessly shattered.
There will be no more resistance!

“These things you know. These
things your great Churchill and Stalin
and Roosevelt and Chiang Kai-shek
have already told you.

*‘But — but, Peoples of Earth, al-
ready I sense a new conflict growing
amongst you. It is not yet evident to

the senses of any but one who is able
to look upon the situation without prej-
udice — myself, Bess-Istra! I see a
new monster rising amongst you — and
that monster is — indecision !

“What shall you do with your world,
now? What shall you do with the con-
quered peoples? How will you rebuild?
Who shall acquire what territories?
What shall you do with Hitler?”

"DESS-ISTRA’S voice dropped a
^ tensed note. Bill stiffened, a sud-
den hollow fear growing in his mind.
What was she saying? What was she
planning to do?

As if she knew he was asking the
question, Bess-Istra’s gold-flecked eyes
locked with his, filled with a taunting,
controlled rage — that was directed at
Bill. Then she spoke again, almost
hissing the words out, they were so
clearly articulated:

“These are the questions that will
rise amongst you, and cause an ill-feel-
ing that may never be erased. There-
fore, peoples of Earth — ” the girl from
the stars drew a deep breath that
shivered the clustered diadem of jewels
on her breast, “ — I am going to solve
these problems for you!”

Bess-Istra’s arm raised high, and she
cried, “Peoples of Earth, know that I,
Bess-Istra, now take control of the
planet Earth! Know that I am your
new ruler; know that I, with my irresist-
ible ship, having freed you, now take
my reward: People of Earth, your
planet is — mine!”

Bill never knew what happened. Not
much of it, anyway. His brain snapped.
Broke. A purple flame shot sky-high
across his vision. Perhaps he screamed.
Perhaps not. But suddenly he found
himself face to face with Bess-Istra, his
hands outstretched like claws. He
vaguely saw Bandro leaping toward
him. Saw Sab-Hallo’s jaw fall.

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

And then saw Bess-Istra step back
one step, pulling at the gun on her curv-
ing hip. Bill knew it was the spastic
gun, which could kill so completely. He
didn’t care. He tried to get the gun,
and the gun raised, and behind him he
beard the Reverend John Stevens cry-
ing, “Bill! Bill!” in an agonized voice,
and then little lights winked in the gun
. . . and Bill felll

Fell, knotted up, brain scalded with
burning thoughts, and traveled inter-
minably through a warped tunnel of
pain.

And was sharply unconscious.

CHAPTER IX
In Captivity

TJE CAME out of it, fighting, yelling,
squirming with an unbearable
nightmare. Hands were on his arms,
strong arras held him down. He re-
laxed. His eyes snapped opened. The
drawn face of the Reverend John
Stevens looked down at him.

“BilU” Stevens choked. “Oh, God!
You were right — right! She never had
the good of the world in mind at all.
She just brought peace to the world so
that she could take over more easily!”

His face was twisted with the un-
matchable pain of young love betrayed.

“Courage,” said Bill. “Stiff upper
lip. And all that sort of thing.”

His thoughts were colder than dry
ice. And as brittle. He could speak
normally, and flippantly, and he could
sit up now, locking his arms around his
knees, sighing bleakly, and looking
around at their prison. A dark prison
with a grated door stingily admitting
checkered light from the corridor lights
outside.

His lips settled into a savage humor.
He locked eyes with Stevens.

“You lost your head, too, Johnny?”

“Yes! I couldn’t stand by — and after
all, I was so bitterly — so bitterly dis-
appointed.” He could speak no more
and bowed his head.

Bill grasped his arm in a single
strong, comforting squeeze. He shook
his head slowly back and forth, in pro-
found amazement. “We should have
known, Johnny. Boy, were we the
uckersays! Why didn’t you stick to
your guns? You thought she was a
devil in the first place, until — ”

“Until she told us she was going to
bring peace to the world,” Stevens whis-
pered hopelessly. “I didn’t think — I
didn’t have any reason to think there
might be another purpose behind it,
BiU. She—”

“Skip it. I was almost taken in my-
self. I was taken in, I guess. But I
was so enthusiastic about ending the
war, that I sort of figured we’d get that
out of the way, get the world to perking
happily again, and then somehow we
could deal with Bess-Istra, if she was
as dangerous as I thought she might be.
And — ” suddenly he was biting at his
lip “ — and I guess I was hoping that
maybe she wasn’t that kind of a gal. I
was hoping that— well, I guess I was
hoping that she could be — converted

Stevens looked up swiftly. His touch
on Bill’s arm was impulsive. “Bill,”
he breathed. “Bill, you’re in love with
her, too!”

“What? Huh? Say!” Bill’s lips
curled in a black snarl. He jerked his
arm away as if Stevens were contami-
nating it. “Don’t give me any of that,
you hopeless idiot! Why I couldn’t
any more fall in love with that — that

He stopped, paled. Stevens was re-
garding him with the sad smile of a man
who is very, very wise.

His shoulders fell. Slowly, as if the
burden of his thoughts were weighting

AMAZING STORIES

down his head, his eyes sought the floor
and stared blurrily at nothing.

J^AYS, slow days, passed. Their
prison was little less than an over-
size cage deep in the bowels of the
ship. There were toilet facilities, two
low couches with silk coverlets, and two
acceleration chairs.

The latter were of course useful. Fre-
quently, a little red light winked on
above the door, accompanied by a
sharp, warning bell. Then Stevens and
Bill would get into the chairs, and when
the ship moved, the acceleration would
not hurt them.

The ship was going places and doing
things. Where and what?

Questions thudded dully in Bilks
brain. Bess-Istra was making herself
the world’s ruler, undoubtedly, con-
solidating her power. But what was
she going to do with the world? How?
And what was she going to do with
Hitler? Make friends with him?

What was she going to do with those
murderous Japs and Nazis? Treat
them like brothers, because maybe she
was like them?

Bill jumped up, paced back and forth
along the length of the room, chewing
at his nails. By God! He knew what
he’d do with Hitler, the damned, sneak-
ing, foul-minded bit of human filth who
had brought misery and starvation and
death and humiliation unbearable to
millions of innocent people. Or did he
know? What could you do to him?
What punishment would fit the crime?

The question was as maddening as
those questions concerning the ends of
time and space.

Maybe you should just kill him clean-
ly, get him out of the way, and to heck
with punishment and red tape; Hitler
v/ould be dead.

Now Admiral Tojo! There was a
guy! His punishment was simple. And

very slight and not to be feared by such
an admirable guy. Douse him in gaso-
line, touch him off with a safety match
or a chromium plated cigarette lighter,
and chase him up and down the street.
Jap soldiers did that to the Chinese,
and if the poor Chinese could take it,
that .Admiral Tojo certainly could —

“I’m going nuts!”

“You are taking it too hard. Bill,”
Stevens said in distressed tones. “If
you would — ■”

“If I would sit down and pray! I’ll
leave it to you, Johnny! But I want
some information. If only that guard
who brings us our food would talk.”

“Perhaps he does not know the Eng-
lish tongue.”

“Nuts! I’m telling you he does. So
does every other soldier that Bess-Istra
brought along from that damnable
planet of hers. Bess-Istra had Bandro
or Sab-Hallo put one of those helmet
things on and transfer his knowledge
of the tongue to a soldier who in turn
taught others in tlie same way, and so
on. Sure, they know the English lan-
guage. ’Cause why? Because Bessy
is going to use them in ruling the
world!”

The red light above the door sudden-
ly winked. The warning bell rang.
Bill hopped into his acceleration chair
with a curse. Stevens followed.

They sat there for a few minutes.
Then a blue light glowed, and a piping
whistle sounded. The ship was mo-
tionless again. And where were they?

WTio knew? They might even be out
in space.

q^HEY weren’t, though. Two weeks
passed, two weeks of maddening
inactivity to Bill. He was essentially an
active type, active of body and mind.
Neither found profitable exercise in that
cage. But at the end of those two weeks,
there were double footsteps in tlie corri-

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

dor without. The guard swung the
door open, admitted the person with
him, and then dosed the door with a
bang, and rested a slim shining weapon
in the grating, pointing it accurately at
Bill while he faced — Bess-Istra!

His heart went out to her, impulsively
— until he remembered. Her beauty,
her lips which he felt could have been
tender, the quality of strength, feminine
strength that was wholesome, deep in
her eyes, evident in her firmly set jaw,
the glorious perfection of her body that
was meant for the arms of a husband — ■
these things he must ignore. He must
remember only what she really was.

“Well?” said Bill. “How’s your lit-
tle planet getting along? Did every-
body scrub his teeth this morning?”

“It is late at night, Bill.”

“I should be sleeping then. Guess
weTi go to bed so our company can go
home. Good-night ! ”

Her eyelids flickered. She said, in a
small, tight voice, “Bill, I have come to
you because I need your help.”

He said dryly, “Uh-huh! What’s
the matter? Did Hitler escape? Or
have you toadied up to him? Maybe
you two would make a good pair.”

He could have cut his tongue out as
soon as he said it. He noticed now that
there were dark circles under her eyes ;
noticed lines of strain about her mouth.
But she said nothing to the accusation.

“Hitler,” she said, “is being tried
along with all his friends and Axis part-
ners at a newly-formed World Court —
tried in what is known as the demo-
cratic manner. And every German and
every Jap and every Italian who ever
performed an atrocity on any innocent
person, and against whom any evidence
can be found, will similarly be tried.”

“You don’t say!” Bill suddenly be-
gan to feel slightly crazy. “And where
did you get that idea?”

She frowned at him. “It was a prom-

ise made by the President of the United
States long before I came to the planed
of your God the Lord.”

“I told her about it,” Stevens broke
in dully,

“Well! ” said Bill. “Well, well, well!
Let me get this straight, Bess-Istra. Are
you the ruler of the world?”

She studied him with eyes that sud-
denly grew alive again with insolence.

“This planet, O Bill, is mine!” she
cried. “And I am its ruler. I am the
supreme head of all governments. And
the heads of those governments are
merely figure heads who must take
orders from me, must abide by my de-
cisions, on pain of punishment.”

“Have any of them,” Bill asked with
a twisted smile, “failed to cooperate
with you so far?”

“No! They dare not. They know
my power. They have transmitted my
orders to their inferiors. The battle
fleets of the world, 0 Bill, are now in
dry-dock under my orders. They are
being scrapped — scrapped down to the
destroyer. And that scrap is being used
to supply industry. And all the aircraft
of the world are being scrapped also.”

T>ILL eased himself into the accelera-
^ tion chair because he felt he had
to sit down. He tapped on the arm of
the chair for a long moment before he
spoke again. His face was a study.

He said, “Doesn’t a prosperous world
need ocean liners — passenger planes?
Couldn’t those battlewagons and bomb-
ers be converted into commercial
vehicles?”

Her hands were on her hips in scorn.
“No! There will be no antiquated
means of transportation on my world,
Bill. Hereafter, trade shall be carried
on with huge transports which work on
the principle of light-thrust — the same
principle that impelled this space-ship
across a void unutterable. Nor will I

AMAZING STORIES

tolerate the outworn mode of currency.
Already, an international currency
which I have devised with the help of
certain well-known economists is in the
first stages of development.

“Already, false trade barriers such
as tariffs have been outlawed. And the
geography of the world is being rear-
ranged, Bill, according to racial groups,
to languages, to traditional back-
grounds. That continent which you call
Europe will be divided into nine distinct
nationalities — only nine. Each country
will be of sufficient strength, possess
sufficient natural resources, that it need
never fear an aggressor nation.”

“Boy!” said Bill, looking askance at
her. “You sure do walk where angels
fear to tread! Or maybe they haven’t
walked there because they couldn’t.
Too much red tape. But the dictator
tramples over many conventions, eh?”

And she said serenely, “I have ac-
complished many things, Bill. I am
remaking the outworn social pattern of
the planet of your God the Lord — re-
making it according to what I conceive
would be His wishes.”

Bill was staggered. He could have
been no more winded if somebody had
jolted him in the stomach. He didn’t
believe it. It was beyond the realm of
common sense. She was a lying, cheat-
ing hell-cat, and anybody with a grain
of brain should know it. So why didn’t
he jump up and tell her off? — in spite
of the almost childishly pleased expres-
sion she wore?

He couldn’t! He was going to be a
fool and fall for it!

Nor could Stevens. Nor did Stevens
want do. Stevens was like a man who
suddenly sees the sun where there had
been only palling cumulus heaps.

“Mistress Bess!” he cried, his face
radiantly transfigured. “You mean you
believe — you believe in that which I
have told you?”

For a moment there was a flicker in
her eyes. Then she nodded solemnly.
“Yes! I believe — I believe in your God
the Lord! The principles he lays down
seem very efficient.”

Stevens tried to speak, and choked
up. Bill got embarrassed.

“Okay, okay, okay! So she be-
lieves!” He was inwardly fuming, alive
with cynicism. He blazed, “Skip it!
Let’s get down to bedrock, Bess-Istra.
You came here — why?”

“For your help.”

“What kind of help?”

T-TER eyes dropped. Her fingers
twisted together. “The readers of
your column in many newspapers have
been clamoring for your return, O Bill.
And I wish you to return. And this
time, I wish you to dwell on — well, to
dwell more on me as subject matter, in-
stead of the great things that I do.”

Bill’s hands went to his hips. He
laughed a short, barking laugh. “A
press agent!” he cried scornfully.

“Yes. I want you to write me down
as one who loves his fellow men.”

Bill sneered at Stevens. “Hi, there,
Abou ben Adam!” He turned back to
Bess-Istra. “But why do you need
somebody to extol your virtues when
you’ve already squelched a man-sized
war? The people probably worship
you, don’t they?”

“No!” A bleak dread grew in her
eyes, a humid mistiness of sudden be-
wilderment. “Bill, somehow there is a
traitor in my own camp. A traitor who
is giving information concerning me to
the newspapers. Who is trying to turn
the people of the world against me. And
who is succeeding!”

“Because,” Bill snapped, piercing her
gold-flecked eyes clear to the roots of
her brain, “it’s true?”

“True? True?” Her eyes took fire.
“Of course it is true — but the people

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

misinterpret. They do not realize — ”

Bill wearily ran his hand through his
crisp dark hair. He shook his head in
long helpless arcs. “And I’ll wager that
Hitler is screaming his head off right
now in that World Court, saying that
people don’t understand! Nuts! Listen,
Bess-Istra!”

He took a stance, his face hard.

“I’m going to take that press agent-
ing job — and ITl turn out plenty of guff
for the world to slop up. But lay off
the Pollyanna act when you’re around
me. Don’t go out of your way to show
Johnny and me how religion changed
your life — because you know and I
know that it didn’t! Get it? Okay.
Let me at my typewriter!”

He started toward the door.

And Bess-Istra struck him. Lashed
at him with the full force of her palm.
Brought him to an utter, confounded
standstill.

“Beast!” she cried. “Pig!”

She kicked him in the shins, at the
same time raised her hand. The door
opened. She stepped into the corri-
dor. She turned and spoke ragingly
to Stevens: “Come, Johnny! There are
more truths that I would learn from you
concerning the ethics of your religion.”

She moved down the corridor, tiny
bells on the hem of her short garment
jangling to the rhythm of her step.

Stevens stared after her like a man
shocked. Then he went out the door
— like a moth that is soon to be de-
voured by the flame?

Bill stood there, fists knotted.

“Do that again, Bess-Istra,” he
vowed very softly through his teeth,
“and it gives — murder 1”

CHAPTER X
Treachery

AS THE weeks, the months passed,
Bill van Astor-Smythe was glad

that he had taken his job — for Bess-
Istra literally changed the worldl

Changed it, utterly remade it!

Sab-Hallo, the squat scientist, was
put in charge of industry. Soon, all
airplane plants and shipyards were
turning out great transports which
moved by the unique principle of light-
thrust. Were engaged in manufactur-
ing small, one-man “gliders,” which
really weren’t gliders at all, but motor-
ized craft on which the driver lay at
full length.

New methods of mining were intro-
duced, A new kind of power-machine
was developed which harnessed free
energy formed by the rotation of
Earth’s magnetic field through space.
A weather machine was tested by Sab-
Hallo, and was turned out in large quan-
tities. There would never again be
famine on the planet Earth! Climate
could be controlled!

All over the world the illustrious
change took place. China was reborn,
as modem industrial machinery flowed
in to take the place of laboring coolies.
And the Chinese did not suffer because
the machines took only a few minutes
to do what formerly took hours; their
standard of living was simply raised,
their leisure time increased. And so it
was, over the whole world.

Bess-Istra ruthlessly discarded out-
moded systems of government. Expen-
sive and useless bureaus were dispensed
with.

The world was rebuilt. A new Lon-
don, glowing lustrous, raised on the
ruins of the old. Scorched earth was
treated with chemicals that made it
productive again.

Bess-Istra, seeking for some means
to keep order in the world, created an
International Police, with Bandro as the
Chief Officer. The thousand soldiers
she brought with her were recruited for
their duties in this organization. On

AMAZING STORIES

the breast of each was the symbol of
Bess-Istra — the blood-red scimitar. And
as the Scimitars was this International
Police known.

Bill didn't get along with Bandro;
nor with Sab-Hallo for that matter. He
didn’t trust either of them. He didn’t
like the idea of those two having so
much power. Bandro and his Scimi-
tars could be a terrifically dangerous
power in the world!

Bill mentioned this to Bess-Istra.
But he didn’t get very far with it; an
hostility existed between him and Bess-
Istra which, while it never broke out,
yet existed, like a slumbering volcano.

Sometimes Bill was convinced that
Bess-Istra hated him with violent pas-
sions, still remembered his denounce-
ment of her. At other times, he was
almost inclined to believe that she
sought to get under the hard shell of in-
difference in which he clothed himself
when she was around; was tender, al-
most yielding. At such times it was
hard to restrain himself. He was con-
vinced she was a devil girl from the
stars — but sometimes his desire for her
was almost overwhelming. And he
hated himself for it.

T>ILL watched the actions of the Rev-
erend John Stevens with a smolder-
ing eye. Stevens now was pastor of the
largest church in Washington in his
denomination! His fame had appar-
ently been such these past weeks that
he was offered the post. But in between
times, Stevens was apparently trying
to convert Bess-Istra to his faith.

“Grow up,” Bill said wrathfully.
“You were practically a kid as far as
l)rains went when I picked you up in
the jungle. Now that you’ve gotten
loose in the world, you’re running wild.
Falling in love with that — !”

“But — but she—”

“She nothing! I’m beginning to get

an idea about that gal. Think it’s reli-
gion that’s making her remake the
world? Nuts. One of these days we’ll
all wake up and discover that we’d be
better off if we were still peacefully
making war with Hitler. Oh, I’ll keep
on playing the game, and being fairly
happy, and I’ll let myself be lulled into
security just like everybody else. But
after that — ” He slid his finger pic-
torially across bis throat.

Stevens helplessly shook his head.
“Bill — Bill there can be nothing deceit-
ful about her. I know!”

“Hmm.” Bill was morose. “Wait
until things begin to crack— you’ll
change your mind.”

But in spite of these occasional black
thoughts, it seemed to Bill that Utopia
was on the way!

He marveled at it openly, convincing
himself all over again that Bess-Istra
was on the up and up. But Bill knew
that he was somewhat responsible for
these brightening prospects. His ar-
ticles swept the world from pole to pole.
He turned out reams of material in
which Bess-Istra was the utterly desir-
able heroine.

Bess-Istra visits the poor and prom-
mises the world that the era of poverty
has come to an end!

Bess-Istra takes to her sick-bed after
an exhausting conference with the great
men of the world — a. conference which
will cure more of humanity’s woes than
all similar conferences of the hundred
years just past!

Bess-Istra is offered a screen role by
Metro-G o 1 d w y n-Mayer, the offer
turned down because Bess-Istra wants
to serve her people!

To Bill’s credit, most of the items
were basically true. But sometimes he
distorted them to a sob-sister angle. And
he knew that her popularity was becom-
ing enormous.

Even a dictator such as Bess-Istra

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

needed the support of the people.

But — and it was like the ominous
clang of a muted cymbal — someone was
trying to undermine the good will the
people felt toward Bess-Istral Articles
concerning her past were being pub-
lished openly. Bill suspected that Ban-
dro was behind it; but he said nothing.

And one day, with an appalling rush,
the dam of events — broke!

Bess-Istra faced him that day and
said grayly, “I will not suppress the
news, 0 Bill, because this is a world of
free speech! It is a democratic world.”

“You’re a funny one, Bess-Istra,” he
snapped. “You’re a dictator, with un-
limited power. You rule a planet that
is alien to you. Yet you act sometimes
as if you actually give a damn about the
people of this planet, when anybody
with any sense at all knows that the
only love which impels you is the love
of power! Just as the articles which
some papers print accuse you of a base
love of power, and reveal events on
that other planet which must make you
cringe. A\^y don’t you stop those ar-
ticles? I would if I had the power.
I’m interested in making people love
you!”

''jf''HEY stood facing each other in the
lavishly colored suite of a white
plastic building from which Bess-Istra
administered the affairs of a world. Bill
was dressed in a cellu-suit which looked
and felt like nub tweed, but as a matter
of fact it was a certain grade of paper.
Bill had paid one unit of currency for
it, which amounted to about sixty cents
of the old money. Tonight Bill would
throw it in a boiler and run the suit
down the drain and tomorrow would put
on another suit.

There was nothing humble about
Bess-Istra. She carried herself with an
imperious dignity, carried herself like
a ruler. But more than once she had

taken Bill’s outright insults without
more than a hardening of her perfect
lips.

“Do they love me, Bill?” she grated.

“Naturally. But would they if I
didn’t play you up as a goddess in your
own right?”

“Yesl” She blazed out the word, tak-
ing a step toward him. “They would
see beneath everything, and would know
that I think of them. Johnny knows,
O Bill! It was he who showed me the
light. It was he who — Oh, Bill!”

He was amazed to see the hot emo-
tion drain from her glorious features;
amazed to see the flood of tears that
washed suddenly from her eyes. And
somehow, he would never know in what
manner, he was very close to her,
enough to feel the warmth of her body,
to see the throbbing pulse in her creamy
throat. Her eyes were half-closed, and
her lips were up-raised.

Bill was held rooted, with a hopeless
passion. Oh, damn, and damn! Why
did things have to happen this way?
She was an alien woman, and God only
knew what alien thoughts might go on
in her mind. What was her purpose in
acting like this? Or was there a pur-
pose?

“Oh, Bill,” she whispered, and a sob
caught in her throat, “only you do not
know — ^you and Bandro and Sab-Hallo,
who think me wicked!”

Who thought her wicked? And why
not? Hadn’t Bill read about her strug-
gle for power on another planet? How
she had enslaved millions, geared them
to a world order meant to satisfy her
every whim?

And yet — Bill ground his teeth on the
paradoxical thought — on this planet she
had so far exhibited none of that cruel-
tyl

He looked down at her parted lips,
at her face that was wrenched by a
kind of childish misery. He knew, with

AMAZING STORIES

horrible knowledge, that it must be as
Stevens said — that he was beginning to
love her! Beginning to love her in spite
of the fact that she had toyed with the
affections of her arch-enemy, the prime
minister of another planet, who had
overthrown her; in spite of the accusa-
tions made against her in anonymous
newspaper articles that she had — mur-
dered! In spite of her conquest and
enslavement of the people of another
planet, so that she might satiate her
base lust for power!

He groaned abjectly. It was useless.
She was like a child, bewilderment of
some kind eating acidly at her soul.
Some alchemy had taken place in her,
and she was altogether lovable —

“Bess-Istra!” he choked humbly.
“Oh, Bess — Bess — ”

His hands closed about her soft
shoulders. He drew her fiercely toward
him, crushed her lips to his — or tried
to!

THE last second, he sensed with
awful foreknowledge her treachery
— her deceit! Her eyes opened widely.
A laugh tinkled from deep within her
being as she thrust herself away from
him, took a stance a few feet away, her
whole mien changed to one of living
scorn.

“Fool!” she said. “Utter fool for
believing you could capture the love of
Bess-Istra! Now you suffer. From
the first, you had no kind word for me
— treated me at once like one who is to
be spat upon.”

She burst into a wild laugh while his
face was drenched in a ghastly white-
ness that was like the color of a corpse.

She thrust up a quivering arm, and
her gold-flecked eyes flashed with sav-
age passions that he had never before
seen there.

Her voice grated:

“You are a strong man, 0 Bill, and

cynical beyond your years. You have
never known real pain, the pain that
I have known — when I was a slave-girl
in the Temple of Stuz, and the priests of
cruelty reviled me as you have reviled
me. But now you will know pain —
pain that will endure in you forever — ”

Bill strode forward. “The pain that
endures in Johnny Stevens, witch,” he
blazed, outraged beyond reason.

He would have killed her. Would
have killed her though she had drawn
her ever-present spastic gun; for, as he
advanced, with his hideous purpose
written clear on his face, she fell back
one step, two. He heard the controls
of the spastic-gun, deadly weapon, clack
around; knew that Bess-Istra had set
the gun so that destroying vibrations
would lash out.

And yet she did not pull the trigger!

Bill would have killed her, for on her
face was written her inability to spray
him with those deadly vibrations — her
inability to murder in cold blood. He
advanced on her like Colossus — but
stopped dead still as a tittering burst of
laughter lanced through the lustrous,
glowing room.

The tittering of scientist, Sab-Hallo!

Bill had a flash of intuition, for his
consuming rage must have made him
super-sensitive. His nerves twanged
with an abrupt dread.

He whirled; even as Bess-Istra
whirled in the same direction. And both
faced not only Sab-Hallo but — a full
dozen of Bandro’s International Police,
each of whom held to the ready a squat
black weapon trained squarely on Bill
and Bess-Istra!

CHAPTER XI

Johnny Stevens, Sky-Pilot

EMAIN still, or you die immedi-
ately!”

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

The squat little scientist’s voice
lashed out, filled with smirking under-
tones.

Silence held. Bill was rooted. At
last came Bess-Istra’s voice, robbed of
moisture.

“What means this, Sab-Hallo? Dis-
band these Scimitars at once! Know
you not that I will flay you alive if your
purpose be what I think it?”

But Sab-Hallo laughed a deadly little
laugh.

“The days when Bess-Istra may
wreak her will on others,” he said
venomously, “are — done! The days
when Bess-Islra may misuse the glori-
ous science that I, Sab-Hallo, have pre-
pared for her, are — finished!”

His broad face writhed suddenly with
an unnameable passion— perhaps of
hate. Then it was quiet again.

“You know why we overthrow you,
Mistress Bess,” he said into the silence
that seethed inside Bill’s temples. “For
we are overthrowing you. Often we
have asked you — demanded of you that
you treat the people of Earth as a con-
quered race must be treated. You
spurned us!

“The troublesome ones who lead the
Axis armies still live! Fah for such in-
efficiency! The very nations which
harbor the seed of future rebellions
against us continue to exist. Germany
and Japan must, and shall be— des-
troyed I

“And now, Mistress Bess — in a few
moments, you shall see how I and my
confidante, Bandro, conduct a trial —
not by the democratic method!’*

“Bandro!” The word broke from the
lips of Bess-Istra. Shocked bewilder-
ment was on her face. “Bandro, who
told me of his love! And you, Sab-
Hallo, whom I rescued from a wretched
hovel and brought to greatness. Trai-
tors! Traitors both!”

“Traitors,” he agreed, and his laugh

tittered out again. “But from this mo-
ment on, the planet Earth is ours to do
with as we please! Technician-Scimi-
tar, adjust the television controls to the
interior of the World Court where Hit-
ler is being endlessly tried for his
deeds!”

'^HE Technician-Scimitar broke
from the massed group of Interna-
tional Police, approached the #ei!e-radio.
In another moment, there was revealed
on the screen a picture of the interior of
the World Court, where the villainous
men who had started the war were being
tried.

There was no audition, merely sight.
And Bill saw Hitler. The little man
was seated at a table beneath the judge’s
platform. It was only one of many
times that Bill had thus seen Hitler, and
he looked woodenly at that despicable
face.

It was a mass trial, and seated near
Hitler were others of the same foul
breed.

“Watch!” Sab-Hallo broke out soft-
ly. “Watch! The moment draws near!”

At various entrances to that square,
extravagantly guarded court-room were
heavily armed International Police,
with the blood-red scimitar, symbol of
Bess-Istra’s reign, on their shirts.

Bill knew that no faction, with the
possible intent of rescuing the Axis
leaders, could break into that court-
room.

And yet he had the conviction that
something unscheduled was going to
happen.

Something did!

Bill heard Bess-Istra gasp, saw Sab-
Hallo’s broadening grin as every Scimi-
tar in the courthouse sprang to atten-
tion, threw open the doors, and ad-
mitted other hordes of Scimitars! They
came running down the aisles and onto
the rostrum where sat the dozen men

AMAZING STORIES

who had betrayed the world.

And at their head was — Bandro!

The courtroom was in pandemonium.
But Bandro raised his hands, and
shouted out a few sentences. The In-
ternational Police drew their weapons
and menaced the crowd, which had be-
come evidently hostile.

And Bandro stepped toward Hitler
and the others, and without warning
drew two weapons, which he trained on
them.

Bill found himself panting with
dread. “Don’t,” he cried in agony.
“Don’t do it!”

“But he shall,” ground out Sab-Hallo.
“It is the only way to dispose of trou-
ble-makers — the democratic way is out-
moded! The people of Earth will soon
learn that!”

And suddenly it was over. Musso-
lini, Goering, Tojo and the Japs, Hit-
ler must have realized the terrible fate
in store for them. Their reactions were
different. Some continued to sit, frosty-
eyed. Some clattered to their feet,
screaming, cowering. And as livid red
bursts of flame poured toward the arch-
traitors from Bandro’s viciously held
guns. Bill caught one glimpse of Adolph
Hitler before he vanished in a puff of
thick, oily smoke, saw his screaming,
hideously distorted face — distorted as
if in the last moment of his terrible, ter-
rible life he suddenly understood, with
a bright awful clarity, what he had
done. . . .

Smoke rolled away and where they
had been was only formless vacancy.

The scene flicked off. Bill turned
dumbly toward Sab-Hallo.

“What good will it do?” he asked
through parched lips.

And Sab-Hallo drew his own weapon,
a smaller variety of the flame-gun which
Bandro had used.

“The same good,” he said viciously,
“as it will to rid the world of my Mis-

tress Bess and of — you!”

^ESS-ISTRA looked at her former
pawn without visible reaction. Bill
knew what her thoughts were. It was
evident that by giving Bandro charge
of the International Police, she had
literally given him control of the world.
The International Police in the World
Court had acted according to a pre-ar-
ranged plan.

Bandro and Sab-Hallo had held out
to them rich prizes in wealth and in
power; had promised them a world to
loot; while Bess-Istra had insisted on
keeping her soldiers to the rigid law and
order demanded by democratic rule.

Bill knew whose side he was on!

But how was he to overcome this
cruel, conceited toad of a man? This
Sab-Hallo, who had probably been re-
sponsible for those articles intended to
undermine the faith of the people in
Bess-Istra?

Bandro, in spite of Sab-Hallo’s decla-
ration that Bandro was merely his
pawn, was very likely the real leader of
the movement, and was merely using
Sab-Hallo. But Sab-Hallo had to be
taken care of first.

Bill knew in his heart that it was
hopeless. Even now, Sab-Hallo was
about to depress the trigger, and all the
glorious beauty that was Bess-Istra
would be gone forever.

Bill van Astor-Smythe knew it was
suicide to charge the squat scientist,
but in him was the hot necessity of at
least fighting and dying. Merely to die
was not his idea of dignity. His mus-
cles tensed, and —

He never jumped! For his eyes sud-
denly raised to the great window at the
far side of the room, a single invisible
pane of glass which melted into the
walls, and through which he could see
the Washington Monument. And driv-
ing straight toward that pane of glass

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

with terrific speed came one of the
strange, other-world gliders that Bess-
Istra had introduced to this world.

On it came, and there was a man
spread-eagled on it o n his stomach,
shielded from the slip stream by a con-
ical, fanning guard of cimarite.

On it came, at such an angle that
neither Sab-Hallo nor his men could see
it!

Crashed through the window, sent
shards spinning in a thousand direc-
tions!

And from its nose as it halted above
the heads of the whirling Sab-Hallo
and his men, came— the gas-ray!

In a moment, the men who had
menaced Bill and Bess-Istra’s life had
fallen unconscious. Sab-Hallo alone
was not caught. He swore lividly, van-
ished out the door.

The glider landed at the far corner
of the suite, where the two rescued peo-
ple had run to escape any possible gas.

And the Reverend Johnny Stevens,
quite literally a sky-pilot, jumped from
the glider!

CHAPTER XII
Jungle Retreaf

OHNNY!” Bill’s relief vented it-
self in a scream. “You old son-of-
a-gun, why didn’t you come two minutes
sooner! I almost fried of dight. I’m
as white as a wheat. I mean wheat as
a sheet — ”

“Never mind!” Stevens cried. “Sab-
Hallo has escaped. He will bring oth-
ers. We’ll be pursued. Oh, quickly!”

Bess-Istra lost no time in taking full-
est advantage of a critical situation.
She was onto the glider, strapping her-
self to one side of the broad metal cen-
ter piece. Bill strapped himself beside
her, and Stevens, with complete lack of
ministerial dignity, threw himself atop

them, grabbed the U-bar, plunged it
home, and twisted it.

The glider rose like a shot, whipped
around, and flung itself through the
shattered window, and in another mo-
ment was boring its frantic way through
the atmosphere five miles above solid
ground !

The escape had been made; but death
would soon be on the trail.

JT WAS not cold. It seemed as if
there were warm air-currents, of
normal atmosphere pressure, surround-
ing the strange ship. Both the warmth
and the pressure were generated by the
very speed of the craft’s flight through
the thinner air.

“A ship!” Bill suddenly cried, twist-
ing his head around to look into the
backward distance. “We’re being pur-
sued! Johnny, where are you taking
this crate?”

And Stevens replied, shouting above
the wind, “We’re being chased, and
he who chases us thinks to destroy us.
And there is only one place in all this
world which I truly call home.”

Bill grinned widely. “Mozambique!
Portuguese East Africa! Your mission
house!”

“Exactly. The house of the Lord.
The Lord is my shepherd and he has
led me into strange pastures, but now
I am returning.” His face, that had
seemed so young, so freshly naive, now
seemed inexpressibly — and sadly —
older. He said austerely, “Brother —
sister — the Lord our God will protect
us, will fill us full of divine faith. We
cannot lose.”

“Hmm,” Bill said, in a vaguely skep-
tical tone, as he saw that the furiously
driven craft which pursued them was
scarcely three miles distant.

Stevens explained to Bill how he had
come to know that Sab-Hallo and Ban-
dro were plotting the downfall of Bess-

AMAZING STORIES

Istra, were going to depose her without
so much as a struggle.

“As you know,” he said sorrowfully,
“my proximity to the adventures which
have so changed the world have given
me considerable notoriety. I was of-
fered the largest church of my faith in
Washington — ”

He stopped as Bess-Istra raised her
dark head and smiled tawnily. “Be-
cause I, Bess-Istra,” she stated, “asked
that you be offered such a post!”

“You!”

“Yes! Already I know what you are
about to tell me, O Johnny. Many
Scimitars attended your church. Sci-
mitars who knew of the plot that was
brewing against me ! It was I who sug-
gested that they attend the religious
services with which you worship the
Lord your God. A suggestion is — a
command! And I knew — ”

“And you knew,” Bill exclaimed,
“that probably at least one of the Sci-
mitars would get religion and blab to
Johnny about the plot! Snappy think-
ing! But — well, it almost didn’t work
out.”

And Stevens nodded soberly. “One
of the Scimitars who discovered the
wonderful light of the Lord told me
that you and Mistress Bess were to be
slain shortly. I came as quickly as I
could — ”

A^N HOUR of driving speed followed.

Below them, the shadowy outline
of Florida was lost in distance, gave
way to ocean as they fled out over the
Atlantic. And behind them came not
only one, not only two, but three of the
slim, wickedly constructed light-thrust
ships used by the International Police.

Death was on the trail!

Bill looked sidewise at Bess-Istra.
She lay flat on her stomach. Her glori-
ously tinted features were calm, fully
controlled. Again Bill felt an over-

whelming tenderness for her — until he
remembered her deceit. Then he
wanted to throttle her. He ground his
teeth.

Bess-Istra spoke after a long silence.
“I do not think we will be able to escape
from this with our lives,” she said
calmly.

And Stevens ground out, “We shall!
We must! The peace and happiness of
the whole world is at stake, Mistress
Bess! Under your rule, mankind was
truly progressing to a promised land.
Under that of Bandro and Sab-Hallo —
I shudder to think of what horror will
be perpetrated!”

And as if his faith truly preserved
them, they made the Portuguese East
African jungle, swooped down to a land-
ing just as the three craft following
them had gained to less than a thousand
feet behind!

They were forced to land in that sea
of foliage because from the nose of the
foremost craft a cone of light was
emitted.

“The green ray of destruction!”
Bess-Istra panted in a dreadful voice.
She unstrapped herself from the glider.
“Oh, quickly! Do as I say. The green
ray will be swept over this entire strip
of jungle, killing all insects, all animals,
all organisms of any kind. And it will
kill us unless you come very close to me
— for I have a bik!’*

“A bik!" cried Bill. “But I thought
there were no biks on this planet, that
there was no protection against the
green ray!”

“I brought but one bik with me from
my planet. One that I had hidden in
the Citadel where I was driven by my
enemies.”

It was the first time she had ever
made truthful reference to her past life.
And Bill was amazed to see starlet tears
on her lashes. But he knew now was
no time to waste trying to solve this

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

enigmatic girl. He saw clutched in her
hand a tiny round metal object from
which small studs protruded. She
plucked at the studs — and part by part,
the round ball expanded until it was a
full foot in diameter, flat, however; in
appearance in seemed much like a loop
antenna.

“Come close,” she cried, and the two
men immediately moved toward her
until their bodies were touching warm-
ly. She held the bik between them. “It
will draw the energies of the green ray
much as a lightning rod draws lightning.
There is only the difference that the
bik will store those energies — and if it
receives too much may explode and tear
up a full mile of jungle 1 There! The
green rayT’

igHE pointed with her free hand — and
BilTs blood froze as he saw a light-
thrust ship sweep over the massed jun-
gle foliage, from its belly coming a thick
green beam.

There was a roaring awful sound as
the beam swept through the jungle
scarcely thirty feet distant. And Bill
immediately smelled roasted flesh — the
roasted flesh of hapless creatures of
the jungle.

“Missed usl”

But the ship overhead, though it
could not have seen the three fugitives
in this equatorial gloom, was thorough.
It criss-crossed overhead at tremendous
speed until it seemed that the only spot
in that locality that had not been
touched was that where they stood hud-
dled.

Bill hoped fiercely that the green
beam would miss them. He didn’t trust
the b'lkf

But suddenly he knew the ray was
going to touch them. It swept toward
them, walking on one livid leg through
the jungle. Ghastly sweat grew on his
forehead; he felt Stevens and Bess-

Istra tense. And then the ray was on
them!

They were bathed in intolerable bril-
liance. The bik leaped with fire. And
then the beam was gone— and they
were alive!

After that. Bill no longer feared the
ray. Seven times it swept over them
before the last of the three ships which
had pursued them disappeared. Then
Bess-Istra dropped the bik to the
ground; a bik that was crawling with
energies titanic.

“We must leave — and quickly!”
Bess-Istra whispered. “We have no in-
strument which can discharge the stored
energies in the bik. If it explodes before
we are far enough away — ”

The glider rose with its human load
after a long, agonizing minute of
preparation. It flitted slowly between
the branches of squat baobab trees.
They could not rise above the jungle,
because they had no assurance that
their enemy did not still linger. But
the explosion, when it came, literally
caught the glider up and threw it high
into the air.

Stevens brought it out with frantic
effort — just as it was about to crash.
Ghastly sweat streamed from Bill’s face
as the glider again floated along,
smoothly. Three human beings, the
hope of the world, were safe and alive!

And hope ran higher still, when
Stevens brought the glider to a smooth
landing in the lonely courtyard of his
jungle mission.

Shock awaited them, however.
Thomas Reynolds, Stevens’ assistant,
was dead in the little kitchen. Around
the mission grounds were a number of
Bantus, also dead. Bandro’s ships, not
content to take chances, had swept their
green rays of death over this whole sec-
tion of jungle for miles and miles
around. All bird, reptile, insect, and
animal life had been snuffed out; prob-

.-0

AMAZING STORIES

ably there was no human life within a
day’s journey.

“Damn Bandro!” Bill whispered
with bitter, tearless rage.

CHAPTER XIII
The Translation

'Y'HE days passed swiftly. Bill knew
they dare not leave their retreat —
not yet. For Bandro was thorough and
might be on the lookout.

But by means of the tele-X2.6xo built
into the instrument panel of the glider,
they kept track of world events.

And current history was truly in tur-
moil — hideous turmoil! Bandro had
taken over the world with a vengeance.
His International Police constricted
over the world like a net. Thousands
upon thousands of Japs and Nazis sus-
pected of having performed war atroci-
ties were executed summarily.

“Goodby democracy,” Bill gritted.
“When we abolish the trial system, no
matter how heinous the crime, we abol-
ish our whole way of life. Bandro may
be doing a good thing by killing those
people off. But he’s not doing it for
that reason. He's doing it because they
might be trouble-makers.”

Bill and Bess-Istra were alone before
the tele-xa.6\o. Bill turned, surprised
Bess-Istra with a tear sliding down her
cheek. But it was not a tear of sympa-
thy. It was a tear of humiliation and
outrage.

“Someday,” she whispered, “some-
day when I regain control of my world
again, I shall throttle Bandro with my
own hands!”

“I doubt,” Bill said cuttingly, “if you
will ever rule Earth again, Bess-Istra.”

She whirled on him. She stood in a
feline crouch, and from long force of
habit, her hand fell to her weapon.

“Do not say that!” she cried.

“I’ll say what I damn’ well please,”
Bill told her, striding toward her.
“You’ve pulled a gun on me once too
often, lady. I was prevented from do-
ing anything about it last time. Now
it’s different. Give me that gun!’*

He wrenched it from her, threw it
across the room. She burst into a
strident scream of rage, flung herself
at him with raking claws. He bent her
wrists back, finally grasped her bare
shoulders, held her rigid with steel-
hinged hands.

He bit out, “You lying little beast!
Actions speak louder than words. By
desiring to kill Bandro you put yourself
in the same class as Bandro. You’ve
deceived me and you’ve deceived
Johnny. All that guff about your be-
lieving in his religion!”

Her eyes grew big and round. The
rosy color drained from her perfect
cheeks. She whispered chokingly,

“I believe in your God the Lord!”

“Our God the Lord, you should say
if you meant it — which you don’t!”

“Our God the Lord, then!” she
blazed. “I believe in Him. I have
modeled this planet according to His
wishes. The people of Earth were
knowing perfect peace under my rule.”

“You’re still dangerous for all of
that, Bess-Istra! ” His gaze on her was
hard and penetrating, searing into her
soul with pitiless knowledge.

She completely lost control. She
screamed rackingly, kicked with her
legs. He held her off, swearing bitterly
under his breath. At last he spun her
around, slammed her against the wall.

“You have remodeled Earth by
theory,” he panted, “not because you
feel that what you have done is right.
Superficially, you admire the God of
this planet. He is something new to
you. He offers a new method for you
to gain power — to gain power through
a selfish type of kindness. But in-

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

wardly — in your heart of hearts — you
still worship the diabolical, merciless
Goddess Stuz!”

^ MORTAL pallor swept her face.

He sneered bitterly, “Yes! I
know your history, Bess-Istra. I picked
it up from bits you or Bandro or Sab-
Hallo or some of your men let drop.
And got plenty of it from some of the
articles written against you. You were
captured from your birthplace when
still a child, were raised as a slave-girl
in the Temple of Stuz. You were spat-
upon, reviled by the very priests of that
cruel religion. Instead of hating the
Goddess Stuz and what she had brought
upon you, you commenced to worship
her yourself — believed that in cruelty
lay power — in selfish barbaric willful-
ness lay true contentment. And so the
spat-upon slave girl began to plot how
she could conquer her planet. She met
Sab-Hallo, whose resourceful brain in-
\#nted weapons that ravaged the planet,
put her on the throne. Unfortunately,
her prime minister did not worship the
Goddess Stuz — and so, Bess-Istra, your
own armies and weapons were turned
against you, and you had no protection!
You fled. But you still worship Stuz!”

Bess-Istra looked at him with hor-
rible fascination.

She said, “The Goddess Stuz must be
dead — it has been so long ago — and
there was new a God here — a strange
God — and,” she added in husky voice,
“a wonderful God! ”

Her breasts woke to life. She panted.
She cried, “I no longer worship Stuz
the cruel — I love the true God — but I
must kill you, O Bill, for your arro-
gance!”

She came like thunder and lightning,
nothing more than a beast alive with
terrible emotions. Bill was borne back-
ward, shielding his face. Then his mind
grew crystal clear. He threw her off

balance, and while she teetered, struck
her with savage fury with the flat of his
hand.

She staggered back. Bill knew noth-
ing save unutterable impatience, that
was like madness. He had never
struck a woman before. He would
never strike another woman again, ever.
But he struck Bess-Istra — punishingly,
once, twice, thrice.

CHE slammed back against the wall.

She looked at him through animal-
dumb eyes, a painful confusion sweep-
ing her face. Her legs gave way. She
slid down along the wall. She crumpled
up on the floor of the room, head buried
in her arms.

Bill stood over her, panting.

Her body shook, soundlessly. And
then with sobs. Long, racking sobs of
a woman who knows an agony of mind
that will never end.

Bill’s voice shook violently when he
spoke. He heard it through an ava-
lanche of pounding blood in his own
head.

“I shouldn’t have done it, maybe.
But I’m glad I did. I would have
wanted someone to do it to me if it
would help. Do unto others as you
would have them do unto you — see?
That’s the Golden Rule. It embodies
all tolerable religions in one form or an-
other. The Goddess Stuz didn’t know
about it. And so you can’t be blamed
for your past on that other planet.
Those people are dead anyway — dead
and forgotten ages ago, along with Stuz.
But you know that Rule now, Bess-
Istra!”

After awhile her sobs quieted, but
she still lay there, head buried, wilted
like a plucked petal. Bill left, biting at
his lip. Already he regretted his action.
It would do no good. Bess-Istra v
Bess-Istra. Unchangeable, evil!

An hour later in the mission yard. ; ’-e

AMAZINS STORIES

:}2

Reverend John Stevens quickly ap-
proached. Bill had been pacing up and
down, scowling.

Rapture was on Stevens’ face, a look
of glorious fulfillment.

“Come!” he whispered. “Quickly!
You must see this!”

They stood in the door of the chapel
where black, fuzzy-haired African na-
tives had worshipped a God that was
new to them.

Bill shook. Kneeling at the altar,
head bowed to floor level, silent and
white and unmoving, was Bess-Istra.
They watched her for many minutes.
Finally she rose and moved down the
aisle toward them. She faced them.
The hard, selfish lines about mouth and
eyes were gone as if they had never
existed.

Her expression w^as so e.xalted, so
filled with tenderness, that Bill was
embarrassed. He knew without ask-
ing that Bess-Istra was — changed!
Changed inwardly. She looked at him
with a serene confidence and under-
standing that made him squirm.

She touched first Bill’s, then Stevens’
hand.

“My dearest friends — Johnny — Bill
— I see things with such a different
light, now. So different. We must
soon make plans to loose the world
from the terrible bondage that has been
put on it by Bandro. We three alone.
Even though we sacrifice our lives, it
will be well worth it if man is made
free again.”

Stevens looked after her with the
pride of a pastor in his flock; in his
glowing eyes the light of a man in love.

Bill said softly, “Damn! Can you
tie that?”

Bess-Istra’s head was held high as
she walked across the dusty compound,
toward her room in the tiny south wing.

“Damn!” said Bill. ** She's got re-
ligion , .

CHAPTER XIV
A Desperate Gamble

"O ELIGION, she had I An illustrious
alchemy had taken place in her
mind, and base metal was changed to
gold. Her tears were real and pitying
when the next shocking news came over
tlie ^e/e-radio.

Bandro sent scores of his ships filled
with International Police over the cities
of Tokyo and Berlin. And tliose ships,
using every awful weapon known to
that strange science, utterly killed every
man, woman, and child in those cities!
Utterly destroyed those cities until they
were less than smoking cinder heaps!

And then proceeded indiscriminately
to kill and destroy every living thing
and every man-made object within a
hundred miles.

Directly after this news was pur-
veyed, Bandro spoke to the world;
Bandro, dictator of Earth!

Bill was filled with revolted horror
of the arch-murderer as he ai)pcared
on the television screen.

Of the silently sneering Bandro who
had apparently been so subservient to
Bess-Istra there was nothing left. Here
was a man who was strong with the
ferocity of a killer whale, and as bold.

“These people shall be punished,” he
cried to the world, flinging his hand up
in terrible promise. “You shall learn
that I, Bandro, will not tolerate these
who brought you such horror. They
and their works shall vanish. There
will he unequaled prosperity on the
planet Earth. And those amongst you
who would menace the happiness of the
others, shall be dealt with properly.
And know you that my Scimitars, brave
and true men, shall guard you from
such plotters!”

In this vein he continued, for a half
hour, subtly threatening the people to

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

submit to his tyranny. As such Bill
recognized it. His heart sank. How
could they overcome this man?

The destruction of the capital cities
of Germany and Japan struck them all
as needless butchery. And yet Bill,
thinking it over, told Stevens and Bess-
Istra what he believed in his heart to
be true.

“Don’t pity the people of those coun-
tries too much, even if Bandro does
destroy them,” he grated. “The people
of Japan and Germany are hopelessly
warped. The Japanese believe them-
selves to be the divine flower of the
world, and worship their emperor as a
god in his own right. They believe it
is a privilege for ‘inferior’ races to be
ruled by them. The same goes for the
Germans. They literally believe them-
selves to be the chosen people. That
belief has been drilled into them for
long, long years.

“Nothing, only death, can com-
pletely erase the utter cruelty that has
been bred into the very minds of those
people! The utter conceit and treach-
ery. The utter inhumanness.

“You should have seen Polish dead
on the streets of Warsaw as I have —
kicked into the gutter by Nazis. You
should have seen starving Greeks, all
the flesh gone from their bodies. You
should have seen the piles of Greek
bodies heaped like brushwood in the
city streets. You should have seen
Chinese coolies used for bayonet prac-
tice by Jap soldiers, while other Japs
stood by and learned how it was done.

“Misery of the most refined sort
means nothing to Japs and Germans —
as long as it is not they who experi-
ence that misery. It may take more
than kindness and love to change them
— and maybe Bandro has the right an-
swer . . .”

Bess-Istra’s eyes flashed.

“No!” she cried softly. “Bandro’s
way will never be right, 0 Billl Oh,
Johnny — Bill — we must take the power
away from Sab-Hallo and Bandro be-
fore they plunge the world into even
greater misery than the terrible Axis
powers! We must!”

And if either of the two men had
ever had any doubts about the change
of heart that had occurred in Bess-
Istra, it was dispelled now by the shin-
ing tears pendant on the edge of her
lashes.

A NOTHER month passed.

The three human beings lived off
canned goods in the mission; and also
off the cooked bodies of animals the
green ray had killed.

But at the end of that month, into
Bill’s mind leaped the only way in
which the gigantic project of freeing the
world might be accomplished.

For the world was truly in the grip
of a tyrant. Millions of soldiers and
civilians in the conquered countries had
been destroyed. Men walked in fear
and trembling. Another Hitler walked
the Earth. The Scimitars were but an-
other Gestapo.

Religions had been discarded. Ban-
dro was forcing humanity to worship —
Stuz!

Already temples to the cruel goddess
were being erected.

“I am so sorry, Johnny.” Bess-
Istra’s voice was like the sigh of the
southern Trades which blew in from the
Pacific; her touch of his hand was ten-
der. Stevens looked up gratefully from
his despair.

Bill bit his lip, and forced a grin. He
knew, of course, that he was in love
with Bess-Istra. And he know, of
course, that she was in love with
Stevens. How could she help but be?
He wasn’t so much of a boy as he had
been. There was a new strength about

AMAZING STORIES

.9-i

him. If Bess-Istra had been changed
by these astounding events, so had
Stevens. He was a man, now. A man
whom Bess-Istra loved. Well, to heck
with it!

The three humans listened in on the
news constantly. Bandro now made a
new edict that all power-gliders — and
there were millions of them — would be
equipped with a device which would
make them controllable by the Interna-
tional Police. That is, any power-
glider could be sent crashing to Earth
by remote control at the will of any
Scimitar!

Bill was grim. “The only way for
anybody to travel for any great distance
is by power-glider. All other vehicles
have been scrapped. This means that
if an army should get together, if there
were ever any rebellion against Ban-
dro’s inhuman rule, his Scimitars could
stop it — like that! The power-gliders
carrying that army would be de-
stroyed!”

But inside, in the back of his mind,
an idea was perking. He frowned. But
he couldn’t draw the thought out.

At the end of the month, every
power-glider was equipped with the
control device. And now Bandro made
an announcement that filled Bill with
the wild fire of hope. Bandro and Sab-
Hallo were going to make a “good-will”
tour of the world. They were going to
stop off at various important cities and
speak to the people. And they were
going to make their tour in the space-
ship that had originally brought them
to this planet!

Bill snapped his fingers, whirled on
Bess-Istra and Stevens.

“I’ve got it!” he yelled. “Bess-Istra
— Johnny — I’ve got it! We’re going
to capture the space-ship!”

“Capture the — ” Bess-Istra began
blankly. Then her glorious, gold-
flecked eyes glowed with savage lights.

“If we but could,” she whispered. “Oh,
Bill, if we but could! But — ”

The Reverend John Stevens shook
his head gravely. “No, Bill.” His
glance was pitying. “We are only three
against a world. Three against the In-
ternational Police! We couldn’t — ”
“Shut up!** Bill shouted it out. “Lis-
ten! There are weapons on our power-
glider which can cut through the
hardest metaL if they are applied close
enough, aren’t there? We can cut
through the hull of the space-ship, get
inside, and play hell!”

“But — ”

“But nothing, Johnny! Don’t you
see? We own the only power-glider
in the world that cannot be controlled
from a remote distance by the Interna-
tional Police!**

A ND the next day, the power-glider
nosed out of the shrouding jungle
with its human load. It hovered. But
there was no sign that the Scimitars
might still be looking for them. It was
certain that Bandro thought them dead,
their power-glider rusting away, sunk
deep in jungle humus.

The glider shot high into the strato-
sphere. Bill turned its nose south-
west. For a half-hour it bored at ter-
rific speed. It was on the trail of the
huge space-ship!

“There it is!”

There it was indeed. Miles below
them, it plunged along at moderate pace
through rolling heaps of storm clouds.
It was far above land. It was on its
way to San Francisco.

The power glider started to drop.
Bill was tense at the controls. In a way
this was utterly foolhardy. If the In-
ternational Police —

“Halt! Give your registration num-
ber! Immediately!**

Bill’s blood turned cold as the voice
came from his ^e/e-radio.

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

Spinning up toward them came a
blunt-nosed Scimitar ship. It was a
small ship. The three people could see
two Scimitars inside.

Stevens whispered dully, “WeTl have
to give ourselves up.”

‘‘No!” The word came from Bess-
Istra. “Bill, this ship is the only one
protecting the big ship! If we can — ”

“Gotcha!” Bill said huskily. “WeTl
try, anyway! Hang on!”

He touched the controls. The power-
glider plunged headlong at the larger
ship. Wind screamed.

“Stop immediately — or you will be
stopped!”

Bill’s heart was a stone in his breast.
The ship had to get close enough.
Could they make it?

They did!

The Scimitar ship, of course, de-
pended on its remote control of the
down-plunging power-glider. But this
was the only power-glider in the world
that couldn’t be controlled in such a
manner. And before the International
Police realized that confusing truth, be-
fore they got over their surprise that
the power-glider had not halted, those
International Police were — dead!

Bill savagely sprayed the heat-ray
over the transparent fore-part of their
ship. They burned.

At the last minute, Bill swerved the
glider to escape collision. But it had
been necessary to get as close as they
did, else the heat-ray would have made
the Scimitars only pleasantly warm. As
it was, behind them the ship was a
hurtling torch.

“Praise God!” Stevens whispered
shakenly, from his prone position atop
Bill. “In his infinite wisdom, the Lord
knows that if we die, all hope dies! But
now we shall live — shall see the world
truly progress toward Utopia!

‘^But now we shall live . . ”

Bill was to remember those words.

Bess-Istra whispered joyously, “We
have destroyed the space-ship’s only
protection. There is nothing to stop us,
now. Downward, O Bill. Downward!”

And the power-glider dropped down-
ward toward the broad black back of
the great space-ship which held Bandro
and Sab-Hallo; plunged through a roll-
ing storm-cloud, and in almost complete
blackness, landed!

CHAPTER XV

Death ol a Great Brain

"DILL edged the glider along on the
smooth surface until they came to
a great round hatch.

“Play the heat beam there and fuse
the clasp, and the hatch can be lifted,”
Bess-Istra whispered. “Hurry, Bill.
Oh, hurry!”

The heat-ray speared out. The
hasp parted. And in another moment,
working amid thunder and lightning,
drenched to the skin with plummeting
rain, the hatch swung up under Stevens’
and Bill’s labor.

Bess-Istra raised the glider, sent it
silently through the dully lighted aper-
ture. Bill and Stevens dropped through
the hatch to the lonely corridor below,
pulling the hatch entrance down again.

“Tell me what I must do, 0 Bill!”
Bess-Istra’s voice sounded vibrantly.
“And I will do anything if I can per-
sonally see to it that Sab-Hallo and
Bandro get their just deserts!”

Bill grinned to himself. Bess-Istra
might have changed, but she wasn’t a
molly-coddle by any means.

He gave his instructions. Bess-Istra
was to float along on the power-glider,
close to the ceiling. Bill and Stevens
would walk slightly in front, and try to
detract attention from the glider. And
at the propitious moment, Bess-Istra
would blast whoever stood in their way

AMAZING STORIES

toward the control room in the nose of
the ship.

They started along. Bill’s skin
crawled. They were in the upper por-
tions of a ship which swarmed with
enemies, any one of whom would kill
them without mercy. To make it
worse, neither Bill nor Stevens had a
hand weapon.

Bess-Istra slanted the wings of the
glider in tow^ard the body of the ship
as they padded down a well-lighted
companionway. And just before they
reached the bottom two officers of the
great ship started up.

The officers looked upward at the
two men, blinking. And the angle of
their glance was such that they couldn’t
help but see the glider !

Bill’s breath stopped. He halted in
mid-step.

The leading officer cried something
in his native language. His spastic-gun
came out and up. In another moment,
Bill and Stevens would have been dou-
bled up in muscle-knotted slumber, had
not Bess-Istra acted. The heat-ray
flashed out, and human flesh fried, and
the two Scimitar officers fell.

With one accord, the two men
swooped down and took the spastic-
guns. Stevens’ face was white, per-
spiring, but his lips were compressed.

“Atta boy, Johnny!” Bill breathed.
“Chin up. You’ll see more dead bodies
than this before it’s over. Come on!”

And there were more dead bodies — a
full score, before they finally reached
the door of the control room!

But it was the only thing they could
do, and they had to act quickly. Bill
ROW drew a deep breath as the guard
to the control room, whirled and died
and fell. Let out his breath, jerked
open the door, and stepped inside.

Bess-Istra and Stevens followed after
him. And their presence was unknown
until Bill cried ringingly, triumphantly,

“Stick ’em up, fellows. This is the big
push— -the blow-off! Quick!’*

'^HERE were only three men in the
control room. One was busily lean-
ing over a map, another was at the con-
trols, the third was at the cabinet of a
tcle-eyt. This latter man was — Sab-

Hallo!

The other two men turned before
Sab-Hallo did, Sab-Hallo faced them
slowly, like one who, even in defeat,
tries to make a good entrance.

Sab-Hallo whispered, after a bitter
moment, “.And we thought you dead!”

He locked glances with Bess-Istra,
his deadly hatred of her showing there.
“You have ever stood in my way,” he
bit out. “I did your will only until I
could step into your place. I did step
into your place — ”

“ — but now shall step out!” Bess-
Istra flared. ‘‘Yon, whom I trusted,
and even now would wish to reinstate
if — ”

‘*Look out!”

The cry came from the Reverend
John Stevens, a cry of horror.

Bill kept his muscles rigid, tried in a
lightning-quick motion of his eyes to
take in the whole scene. He saw the
pilot of the ship, ignored up to now,
draw a weapon. His evident intention
was to kill Bess-Istra.

Bill moved his spastic-gun through a
tiny arc, woodenly depressed the trig-
ger. The spastic beams leaped out,
seizing the fellow’s heart-muscle with
invisible fingers, throttling it, causing
it to stop its beat. The man fell.

Sab-Hallo screamed at that moment.
His face contorted. He was like a
broad-shouldered, squat gorilla as he
leaped toward Bess-Istra, long arms
outstretched. Bill did not have time to
regain his balance. Bess-Istra was
knocked backward to the floor, and the
squat scientist, utterly maddened, rav-

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

ened for her throat.

It was Stevens whose gun danced
with tiny lights this time. The vibra-
tions bathed the scientist’s head, para-
lyzed his great brain. He rolled over,
eyes staring upward sightlessly. For
the brain, unconsciously, controls the
life-mechanism of all parts of the body.
Sab-Hallo was dead. . . .

Bill scooped Bess-Istra to her feet.
She immediately regained possession of
her senses.

“The rest of the men in the ship!”
she cried. “We must make sure — ”

She darted for the control board of
the great ship, lifted a panel, depressed
a stud.

“The sleep-gas!” she uttered tri-
umphantly. “It will spread everywhere
through the ship except to the control
room. Oh, Bill — Johnny — we have
won! The ship is ours. We can con-
trol it from this room, can go every-
where, invincible, impregnable, and
shall seize all my disloyal men. Peace
— real peace, this time — shall come to
the planet Earth and shall endure!”

Her eyes were glorified with her
happiness; was reflected in those of
Stevens. And Bill himself understood
the great thing that had happened. He
felt a lump in his throat. The adven-
tures they had gone through had been
mad, mad. But it had all been for a
purpose. They were here, the three of
them who had seen so much of the great
change — ^here, safe and alive!

There was no more danger, no more
cause for alarm. It was hard to believe.
But it was true ! Sab-Hallo was dead.
And their worst enemy, Bandro, was
at this moment chained in slumber
somewhere in the rest of the ship —

“Fools!” a voice grated. “So you
thought to return, to take from me the
reins of power!”

The three people turned with varying
degrees of speed to face — Bandro!

p>ILL’S high hopes fell, like a boulder
shoved over the brink of a sheer
precipice; fell and splintered into a mil-
lion p^in-bringing shards.

He was held rooted, part of a tableau
which existed for the better part of a
minute.

Then Bess-Istra’s voice, lifeless,
weary, sounded: “We thought you to
be in the other part of d^e ship — sleep-
ing, helpless.”

The world-tyrant laughed with mock-
ing intonations.

“And so I would have been,” he
sneered, “had I not entered the control
room while you were so busy with Sab-
Hallo. I waited until an opportune mo-
ment — waited until you had convinced
yourselves that you had succeeded in
your purpose. And had you not been
so busy with congratulating yourselves
on a bold enterprise, it may have been
that I would not have you at the point
of a gun now.”

“The moral being,” Bill murmured
numbly, “that you shouldn’t cross your
bridges before they’re hatched. What’s
the pay-off?”

“Pay-off? Ah, yes. The pay-off is
that you die!”

Bill said, “As I suspected. So as the
white hope of the world, we’re complete
flops, eh?”

He laughed harshly, with a self-
loathing that he did not bother to con-
ceal. “Well, pal, if you insist on having
fun, let’s get it over with. I can’t
stand living with myself much longer!”

He meant it. He had been in tough
situations before. But always there
had been some way out. Some slight
chance of surcease. Here there was
none. Bandro was too alert, too con-
scious of the fact that on the deaths of
these three people rested all his hopes
of future power. Bandro would not be
caught napping. Nor was he going to
waste any time in the vainglorious

AMAZING STORIES

braggadocio which is usually the resort
of the callow victor. He was going to
sear them with destroying flame — now!

Bandro was holding two guns. Bill
used to have trouble identifying the in-
numerable weapons these people from
the stars had brought with them, but
he recognized these as a particularly
virulent type of heat-ray. Nope, not a
chance!

Bandro’s trigger fingers started to
tense. Bill braced himself for mo-
mentary cutting agony, and in his last
moments thought of Bess-Istra. . . .

*^StayI In the name of the Lord our
God, I command it!”

Bill’s head whipped around toward
Stevens so fast he almost jerked it
loose.

“Johnny!” he gasped. “For cryin’
out loud, you can’t — ”

But the Reverend John Stevens, his
eyes flashing with a godly fire, fear-
lessly stepped from the line and walked
toward those guns which were Just
about to expel their deadly fires!

CHAPTER XVI

He Saved Hie World!

r) ANDRO’S eyes bulged. He made a
choking sound. He stiffened.

“And in the name of the Goddess
Stuz, fool,” he bit out, ‘*stay where you
ttrel”

The Reverend John Stevens stopped,
but his head was held high. His voice
was clear, his meaning plain.

“My God does not recognize the God-
dess Stuz, unless she be Lucifer in dis-
guise. And Stuz is helpless before Him,
or before His servant.”

Bill felt a shock of unbelief. For
Bandro stood with slack jaw, sweat sud-
denly leaping to his face. His gunhand
trembled visibly. Stevens took one
more step forward, his expression se-

rene, confident. Bandro stumbled back
a step. A tremendous battle was evi-
dent on his face.

He cried in a tone of terrible wrath,
“Move back — stop! I’ll blast you!”

And:

“You dare not blast me,” the young
missionary replied. “The Lord will not
permit us to die, when our mission is
so great. You will hand me your
weapons**

Bill felt as if he were witnessing a
miracle. Stevens might have been a
saint, haloed, holding a radiant cross
out before him, exorcising an evil spirit.
For it was evident that Bandro was
helplessly demoralized! Stevens was
walking toward him, one hand out-
stretched to take the weapons. And
Bandro was going to give them to him!
Or was he?

Almost it worked.

But it didn’t. At the last moment,
the hypnotic spell in which Stevens held
Bandro was dispersed. Perhaps the
motion Stevens made toward the wea-
pons was too sudden. But Bandro —
fired !

Bill hardly knew what happened. He
yelled. He plunged forward, saw Stev-
ens fall, doubling up; but Bandro’s
attention could not be turned back to
Bill fast enough to keep Bill from
tangling with him. And Bill did tangle
with him!

Bandro’s weapons went flying as Bill
struck them from his hands. Bandro
went bowling backward as Bill’s fist
connected with his chin. Went bowling
backward, and smashed against the in-
strument panel of the great ship.

Bill caught a vague glimpse of Bess-
Istra. She was looking with shocked
glance at the heap of human flesh that
was the Reverend Johnny Stevens.
Then Bandro had rolled toward him
again, face twisted in a scream of rage.

Bill smashed against a wall, was held

INTRUDERS FROM THE STARS

spread-eagled there a moment. And in
that moment, his blood froze.

TN THE vision screen above the in-

stniment panel was the swiftly ap-
proaching Atlantic Ocean. Bandro’s
collision with the instrument board had
changed the course of the great ship,
and now it was plummeting at terrific
speed toward the bosom of the broad
sea below !

It was going to strike that heaving
surface, was going to be immersed —
and rushing tons of water would flow
through the hatch that Bill had opened.

Unless — Bill drew a deep breath,
growled. He met Bandro’s charge with
the merciless purpose of a beast — to
kill, and kill quickly. His fingers
wrapped around Bandro’s throat. He
bore the man to the floor. Bandro’s
breath w'as hot on bis face. Bandro’s
eyes bulged. Almost he succeeded in
throwing Bill off. But Bill hung on,
insensately, and finally dragged Bandro
to his feet.

“Traitor!” Bill gritted.

He flung Bandro halfway across the
control room. Bandro spun, twisted,
smashed against the bulkhead, and
sagged in a lifeless heap.

Bill stood over him, panting. But
Bandro would never get up. Bandro’s
neck was broken. Bandro, tyrant of
Earth, was dead.

Bill’s head turned dazedly toward the
vision screen. His brain awoke to life
at last. The ship was so close to the
ocean that Bill could see whitecaps.

In another second he w'as over the
instrument board, panting, praying fer-
vwitly. But he could make nothing of
that hodge-podge of controls. It was
hopeless. They were going to strike !

He whirled. “Bess-Istra ! ” he yelled .
“The—”

But she was there, bending over the
panel. She touched at buttons and fin-

ger-sized switches, her hands moving
hurriedly. And just as the ship seemed
certain to dip beneath the waves, Bess-
Istra brought its nose up and sent it
boring at a steep angle into the clouds.

In another minute, Bill was trembling
with violent relief. The ship was sail-
ing smoothly, controls locked.

Bess-Istra quickly turned from the
instrument panel, with a numb expres-
sion. She stood over the Reverend John
Stevens. Suddenly she crumpled up
over him, and her sobs sounded rack-
ingly through the ship.

Bill dropped to his knees, too, look-
ing at the charred spot where a death-
dealing ray had burned a hole .through
the missionary’s head. Bill looked and
couldn’t believe it.

“Johnny,” he said in a low, strained
voice. “Johnny, you old son-of-a-gun!
Wake up. It ain’t true. It’s all over.
We’ve won. Sab-Kallo’s dead. Bandro
is dead. We’ve got a ship that nobody
on Earth can stand up against. Every-
thing that you wanted on Earth — peace
and good will toward men, and so forth
—why, Johnny, they’re just beginning,
see? The war’s over! There’s no rea-
son for you to die at a time like this.
Particularly w^hen if it hadn’t been for
you we’d all be dead, and all hope would
be dead — ” He stopped, choking, eyes
blurred.

Bess-Istra’s head raised. She was
blurred to Bill’s sight.

“Say no more,” she choked. “For
Johnny is — Oh, Bill, Johnny is no
more! And he was so brave, and so
true, and I loved him so!”

T>1LL bowed his head. He bit at his
lip. He said nothing. The Rev-
erend John Stevens — like Another —
had sacrificed himself for humanity.

But finally he raised Bess-Istra’s
shaking body erect, drew her close
against him while she sobbed out her

100

AMAZING STORIES

grief — sobbed, not like a terrible
vroraan from the stars, but like a girl of
Earth whose heart is broken with pain
unbearable.

Bill kept his eyes wide, his vision
straight on the vision screen and the
clouds through which the ship was
sweeping. Well, it was all over now.
All over. There were some loose ends
to gather up; Bess-Istra would be made
dictator of the world again because,
after all, where could you get a better
ruler? And Bill would report back to
his boss at the New York Corey Fea-
tures Syndicate and forever forget
Bess-Istra.

Forget Bess-Istra! Oh, God, I don’t
want to forget her. I want her for my-
self —

“You loved him very much,” Bill said
gently.

“Because he was so good,” she
?obbed. “I loved him — as I would my
Dwn child, Bill — as I would a
brother—”

Bilks arms tightened around her glo-
rious body. He smiled. A great song of
joy mingled with sadness beat in his
pulses.

And she raised her swimming eyes to
his, her lip trembling.

“Bill,” she said huskily. “Bill. What
— what do you think of me? Am I
good? — or am I bad? Am I never to be
forgiven for the terrible things I did on
that other world?”

Bill touched tenderly at her eyes, as

THE OBSERVATORY

(Continued from page 8)

l^VERYONE knows that glass sinks in water and
^ so it may shock you to hear that glass will
soon be used as the buoyant substance for life-
preservers, life-rafts, life-suits, in supports for
pontoon bridges, and many other similar devices.
This strange glass is all due to the efforts of the
Pittsburgh Corning Company of Pittsburgh, Pa.,
who have developed and perfected a new type of
opaque glass that is not only able to float in water

if he could draw away the fright that
showed there.

“Johnny Stevens would know the an-
swer to that, Bess-Istra,” he whispered.
“Answer the question for yourself.
Think back on what you’ve done on this
world. You’ve stepped on a bunch of
reptiles who didn’t give a hoot for hu-
man life. Hitler, Tojo, Mussolini.
Whatever you may have done in a past
that is probably billions of years dis-
tant, it’s nothing to the good that you’ve
done here. Remember that, Mistress
Bess; remember it!”

Her hands tightened on his shoulders.
The fright was gone from her gold-
flecked eyes. She breathed, “Yes, Bill
—-oh, yes! I will remember. And I
will remember that there is so much to
do before people are completely happy
— so much. Bill!”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

She did not answer. The tips of her
fingers touched with infinite tenderness
at the side of his face. A smile trembled
on her perfect lips. In her moist eyes
there was a light that Bill had vainly
been hoping to see. He grew dizzy with
the sight of it. He drew her lips to his
and thrilled to her response; held her
close and knew that she was his.

As the ship of peace thundered over a
world that soon would go mad with joy
at the release from all terrors, those two
stood locked in close embrace, savoring
the first ecstasy of a life that was to be
rich indeed.

itself but can sustain rather heavy loads as well.

The new glass is called foamglas and is being
subjected to rigid government and army tests to
see whether it can serve as a replacement for
kapok, balsa wood and cork, now being used. It
may also help to conserve our present rubber
shortage if it can replace the rubber now used in
life-rafts and life-suits.

Another use for the new-type glass is to insulate
refrigerators, cold-boxes, and similar devices that
have been affected by the cork shortage. The
foamglas has been found to be vermin proof, fire-
proof, and odorless. It is made by a process
whereby air is “blown" into glass and trapped thus

THE OBSERVATORY

pving the srhss a ma?s of only one-Afteenth of
ordinarj- pla^s. It is poC'Sible to saw or drill through
the giass wilh the regular tools now used and
great things are expected of it.

CAFETY glass has been made a familiar mcm-
^ ber of the American automobile family. The
modern counterpart of the glass first accepted
ten years ago has become an integral part in the
armor plating of fighting bombers and pursuit
planes being manufactured for the United Na-
tions.

'ihe use of gia.ss as a transparent armor in war
planes was undreamed of a few yetirs ago. There
was one great obstacle. While safety plate in the
last ten years had been widely used in automo-
biles, it was believed a technical impossibility to
bend it to shapes suitable for installation in air-
planes where curved surfaces of glass were de-
manded. A type of himinated glass was needed,
experts were told.

In searching for methods of bending plate glass
for laminating, Libbey-O%vens-Ford constructed
a series of special furnaces where sheets of plate
glass are placed in molds and be.nt through a
new process of intense heat and gravity. Lami-
nating (or “sandwiching” ivvo or more identical
sheets of glass together with a plastic binding
between them) requires the plate gla^ to be
bent, according (o research authorities.

Today, a majority of warplane manufacturers
in the United States use this laminated safety
glass in sections of fighting planes and bombers
where- both protection and visibility are a neces-
sity. The visibility feature, of course, is obvious.
But the protective factor merits an explanation.

Exhaustive tests of buHet-rcsLslant glass have
proved it capable of withstanding the impact of
armor-piercing bullets. The curved surface.'; in-
crease its ability to resist great shock by “shed-
ding” bullets.

This new bent glass devehipment, together
with some of its sisters in plastics, will revolu-
tionize airplane design and construction.

I) ECENT scientific investigations have dis-
closed some rather odd facts about the larg-
est animal on the earlh, the blue whale. In fact,
many scientists believe that this whale is the larg-
est animal ever to exist on the earth. Because of its
immense aze, mo.st men thought th.al the growing
period of the whale would necv^'avily be quite
prolonged. A thorouch invesfigrilion, however,
brought to light the fact that unborn whales some-
times become over 20 feet in length. 'l hu.-5 the
blue whale at the time of its birth wms shown to

be larger than any other first-bom. Moreover,
the growth as an embryo is x^ry rapid, only tak-
ing about ten or eleven months. After the young
whale (caUed a calfj is bom, it grows very rapidly,
doubling its size in about the first .seven months.
However, after Ibis period, growth is somewhat
slow, and wdien the whale reaches maturity at
two and ore-half years it is appreweimately eighty
feet in length. The largest whale discovered was
100 feet long atrd the oldest whale was twelve
years of age. Determining the age of a blue whale
is rather peculiar: the ovaries of the cow whale
contain an automatic record of each mating sea-
son, for every time an egg cell bursts through
the ovary it leax cs behind a scar. These scars arc
easily counted and consequently the age of the
cow whale is determined.

'T ''HE last time you were sick at home or in a
hospital, you remember how your attending
helper quickly rentoved from the room all plants
and flowers before you retired at night. .According
to popular belief, dating back many centuries,
plants and flowers give off a mystevious night-
time emanation that is injurious to the human
body, and, accordingly, they should never be left
in sleeping room.s over night. In m;iny hospitals,
the nurses regularly remove all plants and flowers
from the sick room at sundown with the guiding
purpose in mind of preventing injury' to the
patients while sleeping.

Science, as ah.vays, deflates superstition. The
United State,s Public H>=aiLh Seiwicc rciTuris that
there is no sdcntinc basis for the belief that plants
are especially injuriou-s to the human Ivcdy dur-
ing the night. As a matter of fact, says the direc-
tor of scientific rc.^oarch in the XL S. Department
of .Agriculture, pla.nts {non-poisonons, of course)
are beneficial rather tiian harmful in sleeping
room.s.

During the day, plants absorb carbon dioxide
from the atmo,sphcre and after assimilating it,
much oxygen and some carbon dioxide is re-
turned to the air. This process slows up during
the night. Plants seem to breathe much as ani-
mals do — ^at all times, day and night, tliey give
off oxj'gen, and they also give off carbon dioxide.
Thus there are two proccs.sos at work, then. While
plants give off more oxygen than carbon dioxide
during Uip day, at night they may give off more
carbon dioxule, but a whole gTcenhouse of plants
uvuld hardly gi\’c off enough of this gas to af-
fect unfavorably the healthful atmosphere of the
air in a nonuHlIy ventilated room. Rap.

"MURDER WEARS A HALO"

Sensallonal 72,000 Word Mystery Novel — Complefe In the
FEBRUARY ISSUE

ON SALE NOV. 16 MAMMOTH DETECTIVE at your news stand

Evans halted abruptly as the gun muula swung toward him

102

Phantom City

Phantom City! of Luna ^ COSTELLO

iJoffa&

Evans halted abruptly as the gun muzzle swung toward him

At iiist Evans swore it was
only a mirage — a phantom city
Then horror strneh in the night!

CHAPTER I

“■W -T X E WILL blast-off for Mars

\/V/ within five minutes,” Cap-
^ ~ tain Malcolm, commander
of the Earth observation ship, Astra,
said to his assistant, Phillip Evans. “I
just received' the clearance order from
the central tower.” He glanced at the
tall, wide-shouldered young man who
stood beside him close to the gleaming
hull of the Astra. “Are we all set?”

Phillip Evans rubbed his lean jaw
and took one more careful look at the
sheaf of papers he held in his hands.

“Yes,” be said deliberately, “every-
thing is ready. The supplies were aboard
last night. I checked them myself.”

“Good,” Captain Malcolm nodded.
He was a solidly built, middle-aged man
with graying hair and alert blue eyes.
He was one of the most prominent sci-
entists of Earth, having been appointed
to the suprrane command of the Central
Earth Laboratories five years previous,
in 2248 A.D. “We’ll be excavating on
Mars for several months, completely
dependent on our own resources, so we
can’t take any chances on leaving any-
thing behind.”

“We haven’t,” Phillip said emphati-
cally. “The provisions and equipmwit
we have will take care of us comfortably

of Luna

^ COSTELLO

At fust Evans sw<»e it was
only a mirage — a phantom city
Then horror strnek in the night!

CHAPTER I

“■c X 7 E blast-off for Mars

V' \/ five minutes,” Cap-

* tain Malcolm, commander
of the Earth observation ship, Astra,
said to his assistant, Phillip Evans. “I
just received' the clearance order from
the central tower.” He glanced at the
tall, wide-shouldered young man who
stood beside him close to the gleaming
hull of the Astra. “Are we all set?”

Phillip Evans rubbed his lean jaw
and took one more careful look at the
sheaf of papers he held in his hands.

“Yes,” be said deliberately, “every-
thing is ready. The supplies were aboard
last night. I checked them myself.”

“Good,” Captain Malcolm nodded.
He was a solidly built, middle-aged man
with graying hair and alert blue eyes.
He was one of the most prominent sci-
entists of Earth, having been appointed
to the suprCTne command of the Central
Earth Laboratories five years previous,
in 2248 A.D. “We’ll be excavating on
Mars for several months, completely
dependent on our own resources, so we
can’t take any chances on leaving any-
thing behind.”

“We haven’t,” Phillip said emphati-
cally. “The provisions and equipmwtt
we have will take care of us comfortably

104

AMAZING STORIES

for six months. The scientific appara-
tus, charges for the blasting rays, chem-
ical supplies, everything is aboard.”

“All the men present and accounted
for?” Captain Malcolm asked.

Phillip nodded. “They arrived in a
group from the Central laboratory over
an hour ago. We have sixty-two field
men, a dozen chemists, four ray special-
ists, a hundred laborers and thirty-two
miscellaneous cooks, waiters and ser-
vants. I checked everyone aboard per-
sonally. Their papers and planetary
passports are all in order. I know most
of the scientists personally, I've worked
in the field with many of them. But I
was particularly careful with the labor-
ers and others. I’m sure we've got an
excellent crew.”

“Fine,” Captain Malcolm said. “I
have great hopes, Phillip, for this ex-
pedition. I’m working on a completely
new theory for the Martian excavation
and I think that this time we’ll definitely
find traces of their civilization and cul-
ture.”

“There’s just one thing missing,”
Phillip said a trifle grimly. “The men
are all aboard, but Nada Connors hasn’t
arrived yet.”

pAPTAIN MALCOLM grimaced.

“I knew we were going to have
trouble with a woman along on field
trip,” he said, shaking his head dis-
gustedly. “I have been opposed from
the start to taking her with us, but she
used her influence with the Secretary of
Research and I was forced to consider
her application. The woman is a com-
petent scientist, I won’t take that from
her, but she has no business on a Mar-
tinu field trip. Maybe,” he said hope-
iiilly glancing at his watch, “she won’t
make it. We’ve got only two minutes
I'jii and I’m not holding the Astra for
anyone.”

“We can hope,” PI..iIlip seid, “but

she’ll probably get here at the la.st min-
ute.” He ran a hand through his close-
cropped black hair and said bitterly,
“she’s probably a long-nosed spinster
who wouldn’t miss a trip to Mars witli a
couple of hundred men anymore than
she’d stop breathing.”

“li^ou’ve never seen her?” Captain
Malcolm asked, smiling.

“No,” Phillip said, “but I know the
type. Any woman who’d force herself
on a scientific expedition because her
uncle happens to be the State Secretary
of Research, can’t be a very admirable
sort of person.”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Captain
Malcolm said. “My objections to her
presence are purely a matter of prin-
ciple. From the standpoint of compe-
tence, Miss Connors will carry her own
weight, I assure you.”

“I’ll have to be shown,” Phillip said
ironically.

“Perhaps you won’t have the chance,”
Captain Malcolm said. He glanced at
his watch again and then walked up the
steps to the open door that was a dark
oblong against the gleaming hull of the
Astra. He turned in the doorw^ay and
glanced up and down the em.pty ramp.
“It looks as if Miss Connors has been
detained. If she isn’t here in sixty
seconds we will be forced to leave with-
out her. I’m going up to the control
bridge now and signal Central Tower
that we’re leaving on schedule. You’d
better wait here on the ramp until the
Tower’s all-clear rockets go up; then
come aboard and check the seal valves.”

“Right,” Phillip said.

He glanced at his watch as Captain
Malcolm disappeared, then folded his
arms over his chest, prepared to wait
exactly fifty seconds before following
him. And once the hermetically sealed
doors of the Astra closed they vrould
not open until the ship reached INIars.

He glanced down the deseilcd epace

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

105

ramp toward the sliding steel door that
separated this section from the rest of
the vast terminal. Miss Nada Connors,
if she came at all, would come through
that door.

The Astra was resting in a propul-
sion slot that was used only for special
departures. Overhead, Phillip could see
pin-point streaks of light a-gainst the
sky: the rocket blasts of great trans-
ports that were flashing from the ter-
minal’s regular propulsion slots at a
rate of a dozen a minute.

He glanced at his watch.

Thirty seconds . . .

J_JE LOOKED down the ramp again
toward the steel door. No one v/as
in sight. He watched the second hand
on his watch revolve slowly for fifteen
seconds, before turning and, with a final
last glance along the ramp, starting up
the steps to the Astra’s open door.

He had one foot inside the ship when
a faint cry arrested him. Turning he
saw a small figure running down the
ramp toward the Astra.

Phillip’s lips tightened stubbornly. It
was Nada Connors without a doubt.
But she was just five seconds too late!

She was fifty yards from the door and
Phillip could see her small white face.
A loud flaring explosion sounded above
him, and he knew that Central Towner
was signalling the Astra with all-clear
rockets. He glanced up and saw the
great blue bulbs directly above the
Astra’s propulsion slot, gleaming with a
pale blue luminescence against the
black velvet background of the night.

He knew that Captain Malcolm
would be signalling the power section
of the ship this very second for full
speed ahead; and that in a matter of
seconds the Astra’s great, gleaming hull
would be hurled into the heavens by
the propulsive force of its mighty aft
rockets.

The girl was only a dozen yards from
the steps and Phillip savr the entreaty
in her eyes as she cried out desperately:

“Please, just another second — ”

One ankle twisted under her sud-
denly, and she fell forward to one
knee, an involuntaiy cry of pain break-
ing from her lips.

Phillip cursed savagely. Women!

Me plunged down the steps and
reached her side in three giant .strides.

“Thank you,” the girl said fervently,
“if youT! laid me your arm — ”

“Shut up, you little fool!” Phillip
snapped.

He whipped, an arm about her small
waist. lifted her to his .shoulder and ran
toward the open door of the space
ship. He took the steps in one stride
and dove through the door to the in-
terior of the ship. He dumped the girl
unceremoniously to the floor and sprang
to trie switch that hermetically sealed
all valve doors thrcughoiit the ship.

He clo.sed it and instantly the door
slid shut with a hiss of escaping air as
the compressed air chambers forced it
into position under tremendous pres-
sure.

And that sound liad hardly faded
when the aft rockets of the Astra roared
into a sudden full song of releasing
power and the great ship trembled like
a live thing.

Phillip dropped to the floor beside
the girl.

“We haven’t time to get to a blast-
off chamber,” he said quickly. He put
his feet against one wall of the narrow
passage and pressed his back against
the other. He put his arm around the
girl’s shoulders and pulled her close to
him.

“Hang on,” he said.

The girl struggled against the pres-
sure of his arm.

“Is this necessary? she gasped.

“Not unless you want your neck

106

AMAZING STORIES

broken when we blast-off,” Phillip said
bitterly, “Now shut up and hang on
tight. I — ”

The words were forced back into his
throat as the Astra blasted from its pro-
pulsion slot at a speed of several hun-
dred miles a minute.

Phillip felt as if his back were going
to be shoved straight through the steel
wall of the ship. He braced himself
using very ounce of muscle in his body,
and he held the girl in the vise-like angle
of his arm until the pressure slowly less-
ened and the Astra reached a compara-
tively level position on the arc of its
trajectory.

CHAPTER II

DHILLIP got slowly to his feet and

shook his head until the buzzing in
his ears stopped. He glanced down at
the girl. She was still huddled on the
floor, hands clasped over her ears.

He bent down, put his hands under
her elbows and lifted her to her feet.

“Take your hands away from your
ears,” he ordered. “That won’t help
now. A few deep breaths and you’ll be
all right.”

The girl obeyed his orders, but there
were spots of color in her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I’ve caused you this
trouble,” she said coolly.

“If you’d gotten here on time you
wouldn’t be apologizing now,” Phillip
said curtly. “But I suppose punctuality
is too much to expect from such a dis-
tinguished personage as the niece of the
Secretary of Research.”

The girl regarded him with steady
eyes and Phillip noted that she was
rather pretty, with dark hair that curled
to her shoulders and fine pale skin. She
wore a leatherette shirt and breeches
that accentuated the slim, feminine out-
line of her form.

“You know who I am, then?”

Phillip nodded.

“But of course,” he said sarcastically.
“Who but the renowmed Nada Connors
would arrive five seconds before the
ship was ready to blast-off?”

“I’m sorry you don’t like me,” Nada
Connors said quietly. “Your objection
seems based on the fact that I am a
woman and that my uncle is Secretary
of Research, two facts which I can’t
very well change. I’m grateful for w'hat
you did for me but you needn’t worry
that I’ll bother you in the future.”

“Fine,” Phillip said.

“Perhaps you could do me one more
favor and tell me where I can find Cap-
tain Malcolm. I’d like to let him know
that I finally got here.”

“He’ll be overjoyed,” Phillip said.
“He’s on the central control bridge now.
probably checking our course.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. She
looked uncertainly down the narrow
corridor that ended abruptly against a
closed steel door. “How would I get
there?”

“There’s an elatube just beyond that
door that takes you directly to the
bridge,” Phillip said. “ITl show you.”

J_TE WAS feeling slightly ashamed of
himself for his attitude toward the
girl. After all, she was in a tough spot
and maybe it hadn’t been her fault that
she was late. The least he could do
was give her an even break.

The girl moved away from the wall
and Phillip saw that she was limping,
favoring the injured ankle.

“Here,” he said, “take my arm. It’ll
be a little easier.”

The girl looked at him and he saw’
then the stubborn line of her jaw and
the determination in her eyes. And be
realized that this girl was the type who
might bend, but would never break.

“I w'ouldn’t think of bothering you,”
she said quietly.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

307

She limped to the end of the corridor
and he opened the door for her, feeling
that he was getting only what he de-
served.

He opened the elatube compartment
and followed her into the small car.

“Fll go up v^ith you,” he said, “Tve
got to see the captain myself.”

They flashed up past the eight layers
of the great ship in silence and stepped
out onto the bridge of the Astra. Cap-
tain Malcolm was standing between two
men studying the electro-magnetic chart
recorder that covered one entire wall of
the large room.

This room was the heart of the great
space ship. Communication tubes
reached every section of the ship from
the bridge and one microphone used
only in emergency cases, carried the
captain’s voice to every lounge and
compartment of the Astra.

Opposite the chart recorder was a
large visi-screen which mirrored the
reaches of the void into which the Aslra
was now hurtling. Every asteroid,
planet or ship for thousands of miles
dead ahead was brought into scale focus
by th'e visi-screen.

Captain Malcolm turned and greeted
Nada Connors with a smile.

“Glad to have you aboard,” he said.
“We thought for a while you weren’t
going to make it.”

“I almost didn’t,” the girl said. “If
it hadn’t been for this young man,” she
nodded to Phillip, “I probably wouldn’t
have gotten aboard.”

“Then you two have met?” Captain
Malcolm asked.

“No, we haven’t,” Nada Connors
said. “Everything happened so quick-
ly that we didn’t have time for introduc-
tions.”

“No time like the present to remedy
that,” Captain Malcolm chuckled.
“Miss Connors, my assistant, Phillip
Evans, probably the best planetary

archaelogist in the business.”

The girl nodded politely to Phillip.

“Of course I’ve heard of Mr. Evans,”
she said. “His books are standard texts
at most universities.”

Captain Malcolm turned to the man
who was standing at his right, a very
tall, heavily built man of middle age.

“I’d like you both to meet Jarah
Simar, one of the members of our ex-
pedition. Mr. Simar is an outstanding
authority on rock and lava formations.”

T3HILLIP had met the man that morn-
^ ing when he had checked his papers,
but he hadn’t had an opportunity to
talk to him. He shook hands with him
now and was surprised at the strength
in Simar’s large, soft hand. Simar
smiled at him, bowed slightly to Nada
Connors. His face was flat and ex-
pressionless and the skin stretched
tightly over the cheekbones when he
smiled. His eyes were set deeply in his
head and they seemed strangely luster-
less. Black, glossy hair lay on his scalp
like a closely fitting cap.

“How do you do?” he said. His voice
was soft, modulated, but strangely flat
and lifelesss.

Phillip had never heard of the man
before checking his papers that morn-
ing. And he was surprised because he
certainly should have met or heard of
the man at some time, considering his
reputation.

There was something about Simar
that puzzled him. He couldn’t place the
feeling definitely and he decided, with
a slight irritation at himself, that he
was being ridiculous.

“I feel as if I know you both, by
reputation at least,” Simar was saying
in his quiet, listless voice. “I consider
it an honor to be associated with you
on this expedition. I have the feeling
that we are going to accomplish some-
thing magnificent under Captain Mai-

108

AMAZING STORIES

colm’s scholarly guklance.”

“We all hope so,” Nada said. “I
hope, Mr. Siiruir, that you don’t .share
Mr. Evans’ aversion to my presence
aboard the Astra on this trip.”

Simar raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“It seems incredible,” he murmured,
“that anyone should object to your
presence, Miss Connors — anywhere,
anytime.”

Phillip found himself disliking the
man. but he realized that his feeling
was completely illogical and ridiculous.

"My opinion of Miss Connors’ pres-
ence is of no importance,” Phillip said.
“She is here and will, presumably, do
her share of the work, competently and
thoroughly. That is all that matters.
I’ll admit I didn’t like the idea of a
woman along on an expedition of this
sort, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“I’m sure we’re all going to get along
splendidly,” Captain Malcolm said
smiling tactfully at all of them. “At
least we’re off to a fine start. We
should be beyond heaviside by this time
and in a few more minutes we will pass
Luna and then we can open up the
Astra to full speed. Is this your first
trip into the void, T^Iiss Connors?”

“Yes, it is,” the girl said eagerly. Her
face was lit with excitement. “I can
hardly wait until we actually reach
outer space.”

“It will be an interesting e.xperience
at this time of the year,” Captain Mal-
colm said. “You should see more spec-
tacular meteor storms and we may see
some comets at rather close range.”

“When will we pass Luna?’ Simar
asked softly.

“Very shortly,’’ Captain Malcolm
said. “She is off to our side right now,
beyond the range of the fore visi-screen.
Would you like to see Earth’s moon at
close range, Miss Connors? I can flash
on a side screen and give you a pretty
good view.”

“That would be interesting,” Nada
said, smiling. “I can remember sevcrrd
nights on Earth when I was interested
in the moon for other than scientific
reasons.”

^APTAIN MALCOLM smiled and
turned to a uniformed young man
who stood at a gleaming control table.

“Turn on the port screen, please.”

The young man nodded and flicked
one of the switches. Instantly the
screen on the port wall began to gleam
with pale, pulsing light and, dimly at
first, and then with rapidly developing
clarity the great orb of Luna came into*
view, glowing with warm lambent
luminescence, ethereally beautiful
against the blackness of the void. The
outline of its thin atmosphere sur-
rounded it like a filmy halo.

But no one noticed its beauty. Every
pair of eyes was centered on the in-
credible sight of a great city, sprawling
for miles in one of the cavernous depres-
sions of Luna, its majestic white spires
reaching high into the air.

“Good Lord!” Captain Malcolm
cried. “Am I dreaming?” He stared
like a man in a trance at the sight of the
mighty city on Luna.

Phillip felt as if all the breath had
been squeezed from his body.

A city on Luna!

It was too fantastic to contemplate.
Luna had been under observation by
powerful telescopes from Earth for
centuries and no trace of a civilization
had ever been discovered. And dozens
of expeditions had explored the small
satellite and had found evidence that it
had been inhabited.

But there w^as no doubting the evi-
dence of their eyes. Everyone was star-
ing at the great city as if it were some
strange specter. Nada Connors’ lips
were slightly parted and her eyes were
dazedly incredulous.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

109

There was a strange expression on
Simar’s fiat, taut features. Even in
the tenseness of the moment, Phillip
found himself puzzled by the sudden
light in the man’s eyes and the proud,
glowing expression on his face that
was as if he were staring at something
that moved him to the core of his being.

But he forgot that in his absorption
with the great city revealed on the visi-
screen.

The tenseness of the moment was
suddenly shattered by Captain Mal-
colm’s crisp command to the operator
at the control panel.

“Change course immediately and
prepare ship for landing on Luna!”

CHAPTER III

COMPLETE silence followed the
captain’s order, broken only by
the operator’s quiet voice as he repeated
the instructions into a battery of com-
munication tubes that faced him from
the control panel.

The velocity of the Astra had by this
time carried them past the great city
that had been revealed for an instant
on the visi-screen. But already Phillip
could feel the swinging list of the ship
as it began a great arc to circle Luna
and come in for a landing.

“Captain Malcolm,” he said worried-
ly, “shouldn’t we flash Earth that we’re
changing our course.”

“Time enough for that when we
land,” Captain Malcolm said crisply.

Phillip’s eyes were troubled.

“Are you sure it’s wise to land?” he
asked. “After all, we have an im-
portant job to do on Mars and this in-
terruption may cost us several valuable
days.”

Captain Malcolm’s eyes were burn-
ing brightly as he watched the course
of the Astra changing on the chart re-
corder.

“What is our work on Mars com-
pared to this discovery?” he said excit-
edly.

Simar cleared his throat gently.

“Permit me to say, Captain, that I
agree with you completely. Luna has
always been considered uninhabited.
The man who proves otherwise will live
forever in the respect of scientists in
every quarter of the earth.

“Yes, yes,” Captain Malcolm said
tensely. “We’ve got to land. We
must.”

Phillip glanced at the captain with
troubled eyes.

Malcolm was not the type to become
so completely exhilarated and excited
about anything. He was a casual,
deliberate scientist and the plaudits of
the mob had never been a factor in his
scientific explorations. Now he seemed
to be changing type completely, as if
his brief glance of the city of Luna had
upset his orderly, methodical attitude.

“Another thing,” Phillip said, “we
can’t be sure of the reception we’ll re-
ceive if that city is inhabited. The
people might not be friendly to an in-
vasion of their privacy.”

Simar turned slightly toward Phillip
and his fiat, expressionless features
were blankly polite.

“An excellent point, Mr. Evans,” he
said. “You are quite right to be ap-
prehensive of the danger. But don’t
you think the potential importance of
Captain RIalcolm’s discovery counter-
balances any risk we may be taking.”

“I certainly do,” Nada Connors said
warmly. “I don’t think we should let
anjdhing prevent us from visiting that
city. No risk will be too great. I, for
one, am not afraid.”

Simar smiled at her.

“Very gallantly spoken, Miss Con-
nors,” he said. “I don’t think Mr.
Evans is afraid, either. He is, I should
say, only cautious.”

AMAZING STORIES

^‘We’I! all be taking the same
chance,” Nada said, turning to Phillip.
“That should certainly ease any fears
you might have.”

pHILLiP stared at the girl with nar-
rowing eyes and a slow flush burned
his cheeks,

“There’s no point in discussing the
matter,” he said shortly. “We are go-
ing to land, that’s that. With your ex-
tensive experience in void exploration,
MIk Connors,” he said with deliberate,
ky sarcasm, “you undoubtedly will be
familiar with any sort of trouble that
might arise. And if we encounter un-
friendly inhabitants, I shall look for-
ward eagerly to the spectacle of your
routing them with a sharpened hair
pin.” He turned from the girl and
snapped an onkr to the operator of
the main control panel. “Order the
crew to stand by for landing party. And
tell them to be armed.” He glanced
then at the fore visi-screen, which was
mirroring the dead surface of Luna as
they came in at high speed for a land-
ing. “Reduce speed,” he ordered curt-
ly, “Set off fore repulsion rockets and
lower landing gear.”

Captain Malcolm turned from the
visi-screen and nodded approvingly.

“Good boy, Phil,” he said.

PhilMp turned and strode toward the
elatube. Nada followed him and caught
his arm.

“I was just being fresh a minute ago
and I’m sorry.” She smiled ruefully.
“I seem to be making a career out of
apologizing to you. I know you don’t
like me, but it might be more pleasant
for both of us if we’d stop hitting in
the clinches.”

Phillip studied her small intense face
for a moment.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s forget it.”

He stepped into the elatube and
closed the door. His words, curtly

spoken, had been like a slap in the face
to the girl. He shrugged as the car
started downward. Her crack about
his being afraid to make a landing
hadn’t been easy to take.

When he reached the main level of
the ship he found several of the crew
waiting at the main hatch for the Astra
to land.

He noted that they were all armed
with ray tubes. They all looked at hkn
inquiringly.

“What’s up?” one of them asked.

“We’il know in a minute,” Phillip
answered noncommittally.

A few seconds later he felt the Astra
bump lightly on the surface of the moon.

“I don’t think we’ll need oxygen hel-
mets,” Phillip said. “We’re in one of
the depressions of the Lunar surface
and there should be sufficient atmos-
phere,”

He stepped to the door and snapped
the switch that controlled it. It slid
open with the hissing sputter of re-
leasing air.

pHILLIP stepped through the door-
way and dropped to the liard, flaky
surface of the small satellite. His eyes
swept about for several seconds and a
tight worried line formed about his
mouth.

There was nothing in sight except the
dead craters of the moon and the vast,
unbroken expanse of shale and rubble
stretching to the horizon.

There was no trace of the mighty city
they had seen for a flashing instant on
the visi-screen.

Several of the crew had dropped down
beside him and they were glancing
about carefully, their hands close to
their weapons.

Captain MatcoLn and Simar stepped
out of the ship togethei-. Captain ^lal-
cohn swept the horizon with puzzled
eyes.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

111

“Where is it?” he asked.

“Possibly we overshot it,” Phillip
said.

The captain shook his head.

“Impossible! I checked our posi-
tion when we sighted it on the visi-
screen and we returned to that exact
position. We can’t be more than a few
hundred yards off, one way or the
other.”

From where they were standing a
great, desolate valley spread before
them, surrounded on three sides by
bleak, towering mountains.

Simar, Phillip noticed, was staring
hungrily at the great depression and his
face was lighted with the same proud
expression that he had noticed when
they first sighted the city of the tower-
ing spires.

“What’s your guess, Phillip?” Cap-
tain Malcolm asked.

Phillip shrugged. “Possibly our in-
struments are off and we’ve landed
miles from the city. Or maybe we were
all suffering from an optical disturb-
ance and didn’t see a city at all, but
some weird distortion that resembled a
city.”

“I can’t believe that,” Captain Mal-
colm, shaking his head emphatically.

“I agree with you,” Simar said grave-
ly. “We actually saw a city, there’s
no doubt of that. I think Mr. Evans
may be close to the truth when he sug-
gested that our instruments might be off
a fraction. That would be enough to
place us miles from the spot where we
originally saw the city. The only solu-
tion is to search the area until w^e find
it.”

“But that may take weeks,” Phillip
protested.

“What does time matter,” Captain
Malcolm said irritably. “We must find
that city. Don’t you realize how im-
portant this thing is?”

“Frankly, I don’t,” Phillip said. “We

can communicate with Earth, advising
them of our discovery and they can send
dozens of ships here to investigate. It
isn’t essential that we waste time here
looking for a phantom city, when we
should be on our way to Mars. And this
search may take so long that circum-
stances on Mars will have changed and
we won’t be able to make the explora-
tions we planned.”

Captain Malcolm turned suddenly on
Phillip and his eyes were blazing.

“Why are you opposed to finding this
city?” he asked. His voice was quiver-
ing with a rage, that was as bewildering
to Phillip as it was sudden. “What are
your real reasons? I am commander of
this expedition and my authority is com-
plete. I say we will remain on Luna
until we have found the city we saw in
our visi-screen, and that is final.”

pHILLiP checked the angry retort

that was trembling on his lips. The
captain seemed to be a different person
as he stood glaring at him, and Phillip’s
concern for the man outweighed his
anger.

“As you say,” he said quietly.

Captain Malcolm coughed and laid
a hand on Phillip’s shoulder.

“Sorry I had to speak brusquely,
son,” he said, “but this thing is im-
portant.”

“I think I have a suggestion which
might help,” Simar said. “Our chief
problem is finding this city as quickly
as possible so we will not take too much
time from the important work we must
do on Mars. I have done considerable
experimentation with a machine that
locates metals and minerals that are
above the ground. We used the ma-
chine in Asia to determine the exact
location of cities and found it very suc-
cessful. The machine has never been
used practically, for its uses would be
limited to warfare and we have for-

112

AMAZING STORIES

tunately had no wars on Earth for many
centuries.” He smiled at Captain Mal-
colm, “If you think it worthwhile I
could build a small replica of my ma-
chine in a matter of hours and we could
locate the city with it very quickly.”

“I think it definitely worthwhile,”
Captain Malcolm said enthusiastically.

“Thank you,” Simar said.

“I wish you’d get to work on it im-
mediately. I’ll send a few scouting ex-
peditions oitt to search the immediate
neighborhood, just in case the city is
within a few miles of us. And if they
don’t find it, we’ll use your machine to-
morrow. Do you think you can have
it ready by that time?”

“Certainly,” Simar said. “I will need
to lisa the ship’s laboratory for several
hours.”

“I’ll arrange that,” Captain Mal-
colm said; “and if you need any sup-
plies I’ll give you the necessary requi-
sitions.”

“That will be excellent,” Simar said,
inclining his head slightly. ‘T will get
to work immediately.”

He walked up the portable steps
which had been lowered from the hatch
and disappeared into the interior of the
ship.

Captain Malcolm followed him with
his eyes.

“He’s a stimulating fellow,” he ob-
served. “I can’t remember when I’ve
been so impressed by a man.”

“He is very interesting,” Phillip said
thoughtfully. “I’m going to enjoy find-
ing out more about him.”

He left Captain Malcolm and walked
slowly up the stairs to the ship.

CHAPTER IV

TTE MET Nada Connors in the cor-

^ ridor that led to the hatchway.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Phillip said. “We must

have been a little off our course. There’s
no city in sight.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“Send out searching party in the im-
mediate vicinity,” Phillip answered. “If
they don’t find anything, Simar is build-
ing some sort of a machine that may do
the trick.”

“When are the searching parties
starting?” Nada asked.

“As soon as the captain gets them
organized and gives each of them a
definite territory to cover. But I’m
leaving right away, by myself.”

“Could I go with you?” Nada asked.
“I promise I won’t be any bother.” She
went on hurriedly as Phillip didn’t an-
swer, an embarrassed flush staining her
cheeks. “I know you don’t think I’ll
be any help, but I’m an excellent shot
and I never get lost. Please take me
with you.”

Phillip looked down into her eager,
anxious face and the edge of ice around
his heart began to melt.

“Okay,” he said. “Get yourself a
ray gun and oxygen helmet. We’re leav-
ing right away.”

“I won’t be a minute,” Nada cried.
She turned and stared quickly down the
corridor, but she stopped at the door
and looked back at him, smiling.
“Thanks a million times,” she said and
disappeared through the door.

'^HEY left the ship ten minutes later
and Phillip headed directly down
into the great depression that stretched
for miles from the site where the Astra
had landed. The ground was rocky and
uneven, covered with a thin filmy shale
dust that slipped treacherously beneath
their leather boots.

“Watch yourself,” Phillip said over
his shoulder to Nada. “You won't do
us much good with a broken leg.”

They walked for a half hour and by
that time they were out of sight of the

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

113

Astra, descending deeper and deeper
into the great hollow formed by the
three towering mountain peaks.

Phillip called a halt when they
reached a great flat 'boulder and they
both sat down gratefully. The atmo-
sphere was heavy and dense and breath-
ing was a laborious job. But they hadn’t
used their oxygen belts.

Nada leaned back on the palms of
her hands and swept her eyes slowly
over the vast, spreading valley that now
appeared covered with a white mist
which was actually the thick, settling
atmosphere of the tiny satellite collect-
ing in the basin of the depression.

Phillip glanced at her profile.

“Do you find it interesting?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly. Her
slender, arched eyebrows drew together
in a frown and she looked at him
anxiously. “You’ll think I’m silly,” she
said, “but there’s something here, an
intangible presence, that is.” She smiled
apologetically and said, “I was going to
say frightening, but that’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Phillip said. He glanced
out over the valley and he noticed that
the misty atmosphere seemed to be
thickening, drifting toward them in
slow, deliberate waves. And he had the
sudden, peculiar sensation that some-
thing was plucking at his mind with
long, soft fingers. He shook his head
irritably.

“I don’t like the place any more than
you do,” he said decisively. “Possibly
we’re both just superstitious but I think
we’d better get back to the ship.”

He stood up and helped the girl to her
feet and they started back up the long
slope that led to the ship. Phillip
stumbled over a hard, rocky object a
few feet from the boulders on which
they had rested, and he bent down auto-
matically and picked it up.

The dense swirling atmosphere was
pressing so closely on them now that he

could hardly see what he held in his
hand. But he waited until a faint breeze
moved the heavy cloying air, then he
glanced down and his heart began to
beat with sudden excitement.

For the object in his hand was shale-
encrusted piece of metal, broken and
corroded, but still recognizable as a
small, delicately shaped urn.

He called Nada to his side and
showed her the piece of metal. She took
it in her hands and studied it closely.

“It looks like processed steel,” she
said. Her voice was incredulous.

“That’s just what is it,” Phillip said,
“and it was shaped by an intelligent
hand.”

DOZEN thoughts were racing

^ through his mind. This piece of
steel, produced by a forge and shaped
by a mold, was evidence of an advanced
civilization governed by rational life of
a high order of intelligence. But how
had it gotten here? Was it a relic of
some civilization that had existed thou-
sands of years ago on this small satel-
lite of Earth?

That thought was not quite as pre-
posterous as it would have seemed to
him twenty-four hours before; for he
had seen the image of a great city on
this moon through the Astra’s visi-
screen.

He dropped the piece of metal into
his pocket.

“Let’s not say anything about this
for a while,” he said to Nada.

“Whatever you say,” she said. Her
voice seemed strangely weak to him and
he noticed that her face was white and
drawn. He looked at her anxiously.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She put a hand to her forehead.

“All right,” she said. She shook her
head slowly. “Physically there’s noth-
ing wrong with me, but my head feels
as if it were going to split open. It —

114

AMAZING STORIES

it’s like a hand were squeezing my brain
down to the size of a marble.”

Phillip put an arm about her waist.

“Lean against me,” he said. “We’ll
be out of here in a few minutes.”

He started up the slope, his lungs
laboring with the effort of practically
carrying the girl. There w^as a tight
line of worry about his mouth. He was
feeling again the sensation of tiny fin-
gers plucking at his brain, drawing from
it all strength and powder of thought and
decision. He wondered it the girl’s sen-
sation were similar.

He realized then that the sensation
had disappeared when he had been con-
centrating on the problem of the urn-
shaped piece of metal he had found.
Whatever influence was sapping his
mind, it was powerless apparently when
his brain was focused completely on
something else.

He glanced down at the girl. Her
eyes seemed to be glazing and her lips
w’ere parted slightly, as she breathed
the heavy, murky atmosphere into her
laboring lungs.

“Nada!” he said sharply.

The girl shook her head weakly and
put a hand to her forehead.

“I can barely hear you,” she said,
and her voice was only a feeble whis-
per in his ears.

“Nada!” he cried. He knew he had
to snap the girl out of the fogged, coma-
tose condition she was drifting into. He
had to shock her, force her mind to con-
centrate its focus on something that
would break the effect of the trance-like
spell that was gripping her brain.

“Nada!” he cried. “Listen to me!”

He saw a momentary flicker of con-
sciousness in her eyes.

“You’ve got to think!” he snapped.
“We’re in danger. Unless you snap out
of it neither of us will have a chance.”
He forced a bitterly, jeering sarcastic
note into his voice and said, “I told you

this would happen. You’re just a liabil-
ity on this trip. You can’t carry you’re
own weight. I hope you’re convinced
now that I wasn’t just talking to hear
myself talk.”

■^"ADA twisted against his arm and
faced him, angry color in her
cheeks. Her eyes were glinting like
bright blue diamonds.

Phillip felt a happy surge of relief.
The rage the girl felt had cleared her
mind and driven away fog-like vapors
that had been plucking at her conscious-
ness.

“Take your arm away from me,” she
said, “I can manage myself. I don’t
need you for anything, Phillip Evans.”

She struggled aw'ay from him and
strode on ahead, her small shoulders
squared defiantly.

In another ten minutes they were out
of the basin of the valley and the air
was clearer. Phillip found that he no
longer had to fight against the queer
sensation that seemed to be induced by
the thick, heavy atmosphere.

Nada was still stumbling on ahead
of him and he could tell from the
straight, angry lines of her back that
she was still seething.

He caught up with her.

“Nada,” he said, “I — ”

“There’s nothing to say,” she said
coolly, keeping her eyes fixed straight
ahead and her small chin tilted stub-
bornly. “I suppose I should thank you,”
she said, after a moment of silence. “I
almost passed out, and, as you reminded
me so clearly, I was definitely a liability.
But,” she added icily, “I can’t work up
much respect for a person who uses a
time like that to start crowing, T told
you so.’ ”

“You silly little fool,” Phillip said
disgustedly. “You don’t know the
score and it looks as if you’ll never find
out. I talked that way to snap you

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

back to consciousness. If you can’t
realize that, you’re hopeless.”

He strode on, glowering. Damn this
girl! Why did they have to be at each
other’s throats all the time? He real-
ized that if he were actful and diplo-
matic he could probably explain the
necessity for what he had done but he
had no intention of being tactful or
diplomatic. If she couldn’t understand
without having a drawing shoved in
front of her eyes, she could just go right
on thinking him a cad and a boor.

They were within sight of the Astra
now and Nada went on ahead. When
they reached the ship she turned in the
hatch way and said, “Thank you for a
very lovely trip,” and then disappeared
into the interior of the great space craft,

Phillip was still glaring at the door
when Captain Malcolm appeared.

“Hello, Phillip,” he said. “Did you
find anything?”

Phillip shook his head.

“Not a trace.”

“IVe sent four parties out,” the cap-
tain said, “but only two have reported
so far. They’ve found nothing. Simar,
however, has almost completed his ma-
chine. Would you like to take a look at
it?”

“Very much,” said Phillip.

He followed the captain into the ship,
wondering whether he should tell him
of the powerful influences tliat .seemed
contained in the atmosphere in the basin
of the valley.

For some reason he decided to wait.

CHAPTER V

gIMAR was alone in the Astra’s large,
well equipped laboratory when Cap-
tain Malcolm and Phillip entered. He
was working over a small delicate ma-
chine, hardly six inches square, con-
structed of gleaming metal and bristling
with tiny filaments and rheostats. He

115

looked from his work when he saw them
and smiled his flat, expressionless smile.

“Come in, gentlemen,” he said affa-
bly. “I am almost done with my work.
Would you care to inspect it at close
range?”

Captain Malcolm moved forward
eagerly and Phillip followed.

The machine had four handholds, one
on each side, and from above a cone
pointed down toward the top of the ma-
chine, bathing it with a powerful orange
ray.

“Would you explain how it oper-
ates?” Captain Malcolm asked.

“With pleasure,” Simar replied.

He pointed to a band of rheostats on
the front panel of the machine and be-
gan to explain the purpose of each, talk-
ing swiftly, surely. His explanations
were thick with scientific phrases and
many bewildering inconsistencies were
apparent to Phillip as Simar talked on,
pointing to various pgrts of the machine
and discussing their operations at great
length.

The conviction gradually grew in
Phillip that the man was lying. That
his explanations were simply meaning-
less phrases intended to bewilder rather
than clarify. What purpose Simar could
be serving, Phillip couldn’t fathom, but
he was increasingly sure that Simar’s
machine was not built to locate the
missing city.

“What is the purpose of the ray?”
he asked, when Simar paused for breath.

Simar glanced at him and smiled.

“I’m not sure you will be able to un-
derstand,” he said smoothly. “Not
that I mean to belittle your scientific
comprehension,” he added, with a slight
deferential bow, “but the principle of
this ray is based on theories which I,
alone, have undertaken to examine.”

“Simar,” Phillip said, choosing his
words deliberately, “I think you’re a
fraud. I don’t think this machine will

116

AMAZING STORIES

locate the city we’re looking for. Your
explanations of its operations didn’t
make a particle of sense. They were
simply meaningless phrases thrown to-
gether in a sort of scientific mumbo-
jumbo either to cloak the fact that
you’re machine is useless, or to hide its
real purpose.”

Captain Malcolm swung angrily on
PhilUp.

“I won’t have you insulting Simar
this way,” he cried. “He’s doing his
best to help us locate the city which is
more than can be said for you.”

Phillip shrugged.

“If the machine works I am ready to
apologise. But,” he said with a grim
smile, “Simar knows it won’t work as
well as I do.”

“I regret that you are so skeptical,”
Simar said. “If a demonstration will
convince you, I am only too happy to
oblige. The machine is ready to operate
now.”

J_JE MADE an adjustment on the
band of rheostats and a slow curv-
ing smile flattened his lips against his
teeth.

“I am wailing to be shown,” Phillip
said curtly.

Simar straightened from the machine.

“May I crave your indulgence for a
few moments,” he asked quietly. “I
promised Miss Connors’ that I would
tell her when I was ready to demon-
strate the machine. She seemed quite
interested in its operation. If you will
wait here for just a second I will go and
get her.”

“Go right ahead,” Captain Malcolm
said. “A few minutes won’t make any
difference.”

“Is that agreeable to you, Mr.
Evans?” Simar asked.

“Of course,” Phillip said.

Simar returned in a few minutes with
Nada. Phillip glanced at her but she

avoided his gaze. He noticed that she
had changed into a short tunic and soft
slippers that buckled about her slim,
bare ankles.

“Will you please step to the ma-
chine?” Simar said. “It will be neces-
sary that each of you hold one of the
handholds on the sides.”

Phillip took a place between Simar
and Captain Malcolm, facing Nada
over the gleaming machine. The metal
handhold was cold to the touch and
Phillip sensed that it was throbbing
faintly, as if an unfelt electric current
were coursing through it.

“We are ready,” Sknar announced.

He adjusted one of the rheostats and
flicked a switch on the side of the ma-
chine.

“It will not take long,” he murmured.
He was smiling softly as he watched the
orange cone of light glow with greater
strength on the gleaming surface of
the machine,

Phillip felt nothing at first, but gradu-
ally he noticed that the room was grow-
ing darker. He glanced at Nada and he
had trouble focusing his eyes on her
white face. She was looking at Simar
with worried eyes.

“Do not be alarmed,” Simar said
gently. His flat expressionless face
seemed to be glowing with an inner
radiance against the growing darkness
of the room.

Phillip tried to speak but he couldn’t.
A sudden suspicion flashed into his
mind. He tried to cry out but the
words made no sound.

The darkness was almost complete.

With a savage wrench he tried to jerk
his hand from the machine, but be
couldn’t force his tightly clamped fin-
gers to open.

Simar was grinning satanically and
his face was the only thing visible in
the darkness; and it shone strangely
like something ghastly and unreal.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

117

Phillip saw him stretch a hand to the
machine and turned one of the rheostats
with a slow, deliberate motion and, as
he did so, he flung his blazing face back
in a savage gesture of ecstatic triumph.

“I have not failed, 0 mighty
Aganda!” he cried.

gWIRLING light suddenly flashed
about them, but it was not light
from any of the beams of the Astra. It
was blinding white light that might have
come from the depths of space, where
the black of the void faded and unborn
worlds blazed defiantly against the
illimitable darkness.

Phillip heard a roaring in his ears
and felt the force of a mighty suction
that grew steadily more powerful, more
irresistible.

And then he was swept upward like
a twig before a violent storm and he
felt all of his senses leaving him as
blackness, deep, vast and unending,
closed like an inexorable pali over his
consciousness.

CHAPTER VI

J^ETURNING to consciousness was
like swimming upward through
murky, impenetrable water toward a
flicker of light miles above his head.
His eyes opened slowly and the flicker
of light suddenly grew from a pin-point
to dazzling brilliance that struck his
eyes painfully.

He blinked and opened his eyes again
and this time he made out two dim
figures standing over him, looking at
him with speculative eyes.

When he opened his eyes the third
time he identified the figures as Simar
and Captain Malcolm. Simar’s flat face
was expressionless as usual, but the
captain’s features looked dazed and his
eyes were dull and vacant.

Phillip was lying on smooth ground

and the sky above his head was a bright,
glaring blue. Turning slightly he saw
that Nada was lying beside him, her
eyes closed, breathing evenly.

He struggled to a sitting position and
then he saw the things that surrounded
him, and his heart began to thud des-
perately against his ribs.

The creatures that circled him were
thin, greyish and their hideous bodies
seemed composed of some pulpy ma-
terial that visibly pulsated as they
moved. They wore metallic garments
that ended at their waists and left their
long, tendril-like arms and legs free.
Their faces were blank, smooth. One
colorless eye gleamed in each forehead.
And each of those terrible eyes was fixed
in a dead stare on Phillip and the girl.

“You seem alarmed,” Simar mur-
mured. “You needn’t be. My com-
rades will obey my slightest command
and it is not my intention to have you
killed.”

Phillip tore his fascinated gaze from
the weird monstrosities and turned to
Simar.

“What kind of a game are you play-
ing?” he demanded.

Simar smiled and stepped to one side
and gestured toward a deep valley sur-
rounded on three sides by towering
peaks. In the basin of the valley was a
great city, sprawling for miles. Great
buildings loomed high in the air, their
white sides glistening under the harsh
light of the sun.

“Perhaps this will aid in your orienta-
tion,” Simar smiled. “Do you recognize
the place?”

Phillip climbed to his feet and he felt
that his brain was reeling on its founda-
tions. For this valley was the Lunar
depression which he and Nada had ex-
plored, And tills city was .the one they
had seen mirrored on the Astrals visi-
screen.

The thought of the Astra caused him

118

AMAZING STORIES

to turn sharply toward the place where
the great ship had landed. But his
eyes met nothing but the smooth, un-
broken terrain, stretching for miles.

The Astra was gone!

“Your ship is not here,” Simar said
quietly.

“Where is it?” Phillip demanded.
He felt dazed, breathless with shock.
“Have they gone without us?”

“No,” Simar smiled, “the Astra is
precisely where we left it, one hundred
thousand years in the juture.’*

pHILLIP felt the words of Simar

crash into his brain with an almost
physical impact.

“One hundred thousand years in the
future!” he cried. “You’re mad!”

“You will find I am quite sane,”
Simar murmured. “I will tell you every-
thing when we reach our city and you
will find much of your bewilderment
erased.” He smiled pleasantly. “You
must accept the situation whether you
like it or not, so I’d advise you to be
practical. Haven’t you noticed how
adaptable our Captain Malcolm is?”

Phillip stared at the captain’s vacant
vacant face and dull eyes and a chill
of horror swept through him.

“What have you clone to him?” he
said grimly. “If you’ve harmed him — ”

“You are in no position to be threat-
ening,” Simar said quietly. “You will
come with us now, agreeably or other-
wise,”

“I’ll be damned if I will,” Phillip
said hotly.

Simar shook his head sadly.

“It is unfortunate that you are adopt-
ing such an uncooperative attitude,”
he murmured. He turned slightly and
faced the silent creatures who were
watching Phillip with fixed, dead
eyes.

He spoke no word, he made no move-
ment, yet with one accord the creatures

suddenly moved with bewildering speed
toward Phillip. Before he could move
a half dozen of their rope-like tentacles
had whipped about his arms, pinioning
him helplessly. Others snapped about
his legs and he was lifted into the air,
unable to move a muscle.

“You see how useless is resistance?”
Simar asked.

Several of the creatures picked up
the girl and started down the long
slope toward the city, Phillip was borne
along after them.

Simar chuckled.

“Your education will begin very
shortly, my impetuous young friend,”
he murmured.

Captain Malcolm followed behind
them, his face expressionless, his feet
dragging loosely on the smooth ground.

CHAPTER VI!

they reached the city, the
weird creatures carried Phillip
and the unconscious girl along a broad
avenue flanked on either side by the
great white buildings that were char-
acteristic of this metropolis.

They came to a stop at last before
an immense domed building which was
guarded by several ranks of the weird,
tentacles-armed creatures.

Philip was lowered to the ground
and the great metal door of the domed
building swung ponderously open.

Simar came up to Phillip’s side.

“This is the palace of our ruler,
Aganda,” he said. “When he has seen
you I will take you to your quarters
where you will be fed.”

Phillip glanced at Nada who was still
held aloft in the tendril arms of the
weird creatures. He prayed that she
would stay unconscious.

“What about the girl?” he asked
Simar.

“She will not be harmed.”

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

He strode ahead of Phillip through
the great door and the strange captors
secured Phillip’s arms with their ropy
tentacles and led him through the door
into a huge shadowy room that was
completely bare except for the raised
dais in the center of the floor and com-
pletely unoccupied except for the crea-
ture who sat silently there watching
their approach with an unwinking, life-
less eye,

Simar prostrated himself before the
,dais and the enthroned creature, who
was identical to the others Phillip had
seen, except that, if possible, he was
even more repulsive in appearance,
stared at Simar’s prone figure .with a
glassy, expressionless eye.

Phillip sensed that the two were com-
municating and it was not hard to guess
that the subject of their conversation
was he and the girl, who had been
brought in and stretched before the
throne.

His guess was confirmed when the
creature on the dais turned his eye
slowly from Simar and fixed its dead
stare on him. The creature’s inspec-
tion lasted for a full minute and then
it swung slowly to the slim figure of the
girl before the throne.

Again the inspection lasted a full
minute, before the eye swung back to
Simar who rose immediately to his feet
and turned to Phillip.

“Con>e with me,” he said quietly.

Nada stirred slightly and a low moan
passed her lips. She moved her head
weakly from side to side and then her
eyelids fluttered and opened. She
stared for a blank, uncomprehending
moment at the hideous creatures wdm
stood over her and then a convulsive
shudder passed through her .slim body.

She pressed tlie back of her hand
against her mouth to choke back the
scream that tore at her throat. Her
eyes were wide with a loathing fear.

pHiLLIP dropped to his knees be-
side her and held her close in Ms
arms.

“What are they?” she cried, her face
pressed against hb chest. “Take me
away from here, please.”

“Get hold of yourself, honey,” he
whispered. “We’re in for a bad time
but we can’t crack.”

Simar coughed meaningly.

“Are you ready? Or shall I have
my comrades use a bit of forceful per-
suasion?”

Pliillip turned to him, his face a mask
of cold, v/hite fury.

“If one of these slimy monstrosities
tries to touch Nada I’ll kill her my.self
rather than let tliat happen,”

Simar shrugged.

“Then supposing you come along
under your own power? I am trying
to be gentle with both of you but your
attitude may force me to change my
tactics.”

Phillip helped Nada to her feet.
She buried her head against his shoul-
der. “I can’t look at them,” she whis-
pered. Her voice was choked with
horror. “I just can’t.”

Phillip put his arm about her waist
and held her close.

“You don’t have to,” he said. “Keep
your eyes closed and ITl lead

Supporting Nada with his arm,
Phillip followed Simar and several of
the weird creatures across the great hall
through a door tliat led them into a
labyrinthine system of connecting cor-
ridors and finally brought tiiem to a
row of dungeon-like cells hundreds of
feet below the surface of the ground.

Each cell was constructed of thick
wire mesh and a door was its only
opening. One of the ertuatures opened
the door and Phillip and Nada were
shoved into the cell.

Simar followed them in and closed
the door behind him. The four crea-

120

AMAZING STORIES

tures that had escorted them to the
place moved a few dozen feet away
and crouched in the corridor, watching
the cell with sluggish eyes.

Phillip glanced about the small cell.
There were cots facing each other from
opposite walls and a tube of running
water in one corner. That was all.

Simar noticed his inspection and
smiled.

“True,” he murmured, “the quarters
are not palatial, but if your attitude
becomes more cooperative you will find
that we are not completely without
physical comforts here at Lunas.”

Phillip led Nada to one of the cots
and sat down beside her, still holding his
arm about her shoulders. She was sob-
bing, now, but the sound was muffled
against his chest. He could feel her
slim shoulders quivering under his hand.

He looked up at Simar and his eyes
were bleak and hard as frozen steel.

“All right, Simar,” he said, “you ap-
parently hold all the cards. 'V^at do
you want with us?”

“Now you are being more sensible,”
Simar said.

ILTE SAT down carefully on the cot
facing them and smiled his flat,
humorless smile.

“First,” he said, “let me caution you
against attempting to escape from Lu-
nas. You will be under constant sur-
veilance and the penalities for any such
action will be very severe. I hope you
will be sensible in this matter.”

He leaned forward slightly on the cot
and cleared his throat softly,

“I will begin my story by telling you
something of this place. You must try
and think in terms of the past, the past
of a hundred thousand years ago, when
this moon of Earth still possessed suf-
ficient heat to nurture vegetation and
make its surface habitable. In that
time the creatures you have seen, of

which I am one myself, were a flourish-
ing, highly developed species of intelli-
gent life. Civilizations, however, do
not all progress along the same lines,
and our advancement was chiefly
marked by the development of elemen-
tary devices to span time and the culti-
vation of a system of thought transfer-
ence, which did away with the necessity
of speech, with the result that the vocal
chords of our people evenually atro-
phied.

“In all lines of science we were striv-
ing ceaselessly to attain perfection and
if we had developed normally there is
no limit to the ends we might have
achieved.”

Simar paused and Phillip noticed that
his eyes had left their faces and he
seemed to have forgotten their pres-
ence.

“We might have grown great and
glorious,” he went on in a changed voice
that was charged with bitterness, “but
life on Lunas was obliterated in the
twentieth of a second and the greatest
civilization the Universe has ever
known was reduced to a pile of rubble
in the twinkling of an eye. A meteor
storm of unprecedented size and speed
smashed Lunas into the dust, destroy-
ing it forever.”

Nada had raised her head as Simar
spoke and only the redness of her eyes
indicated that she had been crying.
She was listening closely to Simar’s
story, and now she said,

“Hadn’t your scientists been able to
predict the course of the storm?”

“They had,” Simar answered, “and
we had built a force shield to deflect the
meteors but we hadn’t sufficient experi-
ence to make the shield work effective-
ly. We were working frantically on it
when the storm struck. And before a
man could draw a breath the life of
Limas was sealed under millions of tons
of molten metal.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

121

“And the very suddenness of the on-
slaught was the thing that saved us from
complete obliteration. It may be hard
for you to understand but the very speed
with which the life of Lunas was
crushed out prevented the life forces
from escaping completely from the
area. Millions of us were destroyed in
a physical sense, but our life forces
were held in suspension under the tons
of metal that had destroyed our city.

“After the molten meteors had
cooled, thousands of years later,” Simar
continued, “we were able by sheer, dis-
embodied will power to project a life
.substance to Larth where it assumed
the form of a human being.”

CIMAR smiled then and then bowed
slightly in a sclf-depreciatory ges-
ture.

“And I, as you may have guessed,
am that humble person,” he said. “I ap-
propriated this body and then the rest
you can probably surn^ise. I constructed
a time machine on the principles we had
discovered thousands of years before
and arranged to be included among the
members of your expedition. But I
had no intention of going to Mars. I
wanted to return to Luna and that was
easily managed. The city that ap-
peared in the visi-screen was but a
phantom, a figment of your collective im-
aginations induced by the concerted will
of the millions of life forces still held
in su.spen3ion on the buried city of
Lunas.”

“What did you do to Captain Mal-
colm?” Phillip asked.

“Captain Malcolm as you know him
is dead forever,” Simar said. “His
body was absorbed by a liberated life
force before he reached Lunas.”

Phillip had difilculty in controlling
an impulse to spring at Simar^s throat
and crush the dead, unclean life from
his body.

But he fought back the red rage that
coursed through his body in hot waves.
He knew that Nada and he were in ter-
rible danger and their only hope was to
play for time, to find, somehow, a
means to return to their own time.

“It wasn’t hard,” Simar continued,
a cool smile on his lips. “As a matter
of fact, when you and Miss Connors
explored the basin of tlie Lunasian val-
ley, her mind was almost taken over
by one of the Kfe forces. If you no-
ticed, the ectoplasmic emanations from
the buried city of Lunas drifted toward
you the instant your presence in the
valley became manifest. If you hadn’t
distracted her mind, forced her to con-
centrate on something else she would
have been lost to you forever.”

Nada squeezed Phillip’s arm witli her
hand,

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You
tried to tell me that but I wouldn’t
listen. I’ve been nothing but a drag on
you since we left Earth. It’s no w^on-
der you despise me.”

“Skip it,” Phillip said. “You’ve got
more guts than most of the men on the
Astra'* He grinned down at her and
rocked her chin gently with his fist.
“We’ll lick this thing.”

“I beg your pardon,” Simar said,
“but I am afraid I must disappoint you.
You are here to do a specific job and
when that job is done you will be — ah
— liquidated is the word, I believe.”

j^E crossed his legs and leaned back

comfortably on the narrow cot.

“I will tell you now why I brought
you here. At this moment the meteor
storm I spoke of has not yet occurred.
It will occur tomorrow evening. Be-
fore that time you are going to examine
our force shield and put it in working
order. Do I make myself clear?”

“Supposing I can’t fi.x it?” Phillip
asked.

122

AMAZING STORIES

“You will repair the machine,” Simar
said, emphasizing each word carefully.
“Unfortunately you are not going to
have much time. I miscalculated slight-
ly in my entropy estimate and con-
sequently we arrived back at Lunas
only a day before the impending de-
struction of the city by the meteor
storm. But your skill will avert that
catastrophe and Lunas will be saved.”

‘■'Has it occurred to you,” Phillip
said, “that you aren't in a very good po-
sition to be making demands? You
need my knowledge to save your own
life and the life of every person and
thing on Luna. Supposing I refuse to
help you?”

“That has occurred to me,” Simar
said blandly. He smiled as if he were
enjoying the taste of something on his
tongue. His eyes moved slowly to
Nada. “I noticed that you are quite
fond of our charming guest,” he mur-
mured. “That is the reason I brought
her with us. She is the lever I may
have to use on you — a very beautiful
lever and a most effective one. If you
don’t cooperate, it will not be very
pleasant for her. Has that occurred
to you, Phillip Evans?”

“Don’t listen to him, Phillip!” Nada
cried. “He intends to kill us anyway
after you have saved their city. I don’t
care what happens to me.”

“Don’t you, my child?” Simar said
gently. “That is only because you have
no idea of the refined tortures we have
prepared for you.” He glanced at
Phillip and smiled. “You have seen
my people? Probably they seem quite
repugnant to you, but they are actuated
by the same fundamental desires that
motivate any thinking organism. They
have impulses that are quite normal
and moderate from' their viewpoint.
But — ” He paused and chuckled softly.
“I wonder if Miss Connors would think
so?”

“You filthy beast 1” Phillip spat the
words out harshly. “You couldn’t pos-
sibly be that rotten and corrupt.”

“I might surprise you,” Simar said.
“At any rate, I am going to give you a
few minutes to think this over. That
is why I placed you in the same cell.”

He stood up and walked to the door.

“TU be back shortly for your de-
cision. And remember, Miss Connors
would be a dainty diversion for some
lucky citizen of Lunas.”

He bowed mockingly to them and
stepped into the corridor, closing and
locking the door behind him.

pHILLIP put his arm about Nada’s

shoulder and held her tightly.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he whispered.
“Nothing like that is going to happen
to you. I promise you that much.”

“Why don’t you agree to help them?”
Nada asked. “They intend to kill us
both, but that way you’d gain a little
time. If you refuse to help them they
may kill us immediately.”

“I think maybe that’s the best idea,”
Phillip said. He took a small knife
from his pocket — his only weapon —
and handed it to the girl.

“If anything happens to me,” he
said, “you know what to do with this.”

Nada slipped tlie knife into the front
of her tunic and nodded slowly.

“Yes, Phillip,” she whispered, “I’ll
know what to do with it. And I won’t
be afraid.”

“I know you won’t,” Phillip said. He
patted her gently on the cheek and
smiled into her eyes. “You’ve got
everything it takes.”

“Thanks,” she said simply.

Phillip stepped to the cell door and
called Simar.

“Have you reached a decision?”
Simar asked mockingly.

“Yes, I have,” Phillip said. “I’ll
help you.”

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

123

CHAPTER VIII

'^HE force shield had been con-
structed at the edge of the city.
When Simar and Phillip, escorted by a
half dozen of the ropey-armed inhabi-
tants of Lunas, reached the spot where
it had been erected, a huge battery of
brilliant lights was directed on the ma-
chine bringing it into sharp focus
against the soft, velvet blackness of the
Lunas night.

Phillip studied the machine with an
engineer’s practiced eye. It towered
two dozen feet in the air and was easily
twice that wide. From its flat, gleam-
ing surface a dozen barrels pointed sky-
ward like the menacing feelers of some
giant bug.

A control panel and observation plat-
form was reached by a narrow flight of
iron steps.

“Come with me,” Simar said. “There
is no time to lose.”

He led Phillip up the steps to the
observation platform.

“The principle of the machine is
simply a variation of ray projection,”
he explained. “These barrels throw a
powerful ray screen miles into the air
which, when magnetized, become as
dense as the hardest metal. It should
be sufficient to deflect the meteor storm.
Your job is to make this machine work.
Our scientists are completely unable to
discover the flaw in its operation. That,
as you know, is why you and Captain
Malcolm were brought iiere.”

“Bring me the necessary tools to tear
this machine to the ground and I’ll get
to work,” Phillip said, studying the con-
trol panel with narrowed, thoughtful
eyes.

He worked steadily that night and
the following morning, familiarizing
himself with the construction and oper-
ation of the force shield machine. When
the sun reached its zenith he was cov-

ered with grime and sweat and his face
was pale and drawn with fatigue. He
had inspected every square inch of the
monster machine, had dug into every
compartment, every housing and had
re-checked the original designs and
figures from which it had been built.

And he found nothing wrong.

Simar paced restlessly up and down
the platform, occasionally glancing
worriedly up in the direction the barrels
of the machine were pointed.

“Have you found anything?” he
asked for the dozenth time. His usually
expressionless face was twisted now
into a worried scowl as he peered over
Phillip’s shoulder.

“Get out of the light,” Phillip said
shortly. “When I find something, I’ll
let you know.”

Simar stared at his back in baffled
rage, then resumed his worried pacing.

“If you’re trying to trick me,” he
snarled, “that wench of yours will curse
you a thousand times before she dies.”

Phillip had felt a return of his con-
fidence as he saw Simar’s anxiety. The
creatures of Lunas were like robots,
without emotion, without feeling, but
Simar was as edgy as a cornered rat.
With the human body he had stolen
he had also acquired a complete set of
human emotions.

“If I don’t get this machine operat-
ing,” he said grimly, “none of us will
have any worries after tonight.”

CIMAR glanced up at the sky. He
was chewing his lower lip and his
hands were shaky as he glanced at his
watch.

“You haven’t got much time,” he
said and his voice was tense.

“Where is Captain Malcolm?” Phillip
asked.

“WTiat difference does it make?”
Simar said harshly. “Keep working on
that machine.”

124

AMAZING STORIES

“Captain Malcolm might be able to
help me,” Phillip said.

Simar paced the platform in silence,
clenching and unclenching his hands.

“I’ll have him brought here,” he said
finally.

One of the Lunasian creatures moved
off immediately and returned a few
moments later leading the dazed, glassy-
eyed figure of the captain.

“He’ll be no help!” Simar snapped.

Phillip shrugged. ‘‘Maybe not. But
I wish you’d leave him here on the
platform. The association with the
machine might help re.store his own
con.sciousness. He was one of the most
brilliant scientists on Earth. He could
solve thi.s problem in ten minutes.”

“All right, all right,” Simar said
harshly, “let him stay here.”

When the Lunasian released the
captain he moved slowly, aw'kwardly to
the control panel of the force field ma-
chine and ran his hands gently over
the gleaming row of directional dials.
A pleased, vague smile touched his
face.

Phillip turned away, choking back
the rage and bitterne.ss in his heart.
The fine, keen mind that had brought
illumination to a thousand subjects was
a dim, tragic thing now, its brilliance
clouded forever.

“Hurry!” Simar’s voice cracked like
an angry whip about his ears. He was
staring at the sky, his face pale with
terror. “I think I can see the light of
the meteor storm.”

Two hours passed slowly and dark-
ness was settling slowly on Luna, .^nd
as the darkness came the eastern sky
w’as illumined by a cherry-red glow
that seemed to emanate from the
boundless wastes of space.

Sweat was .standing out in tiny drops
on Simar’s forehead.

“The meteor swarm will be here in
half an hour,” he .said, and his voice

was thick with mounting terror. He
wheeled on Phillip, his face savage.
“Damn you!” he shouted. “You’ve
tricked me.”

Phillip didn’t bother to look up. His
fingers worked rapidly and desperately
repairing a broken cable he had dis-
covered but a moment before.

“Don’t worry,” he said bitterly,
“your hide is saved, Simar.”

“Have you found the trouble?” Simar
a.sked tensely.

Phillip nodded. “I’ll have it fixed in
ten minutes.”

An audible sigh of relief passed
Simar’s lips.

He straightened his shoulders and
slowly the old expre.ssion of calm arro-
gance spread over his features. His
eyes were again cold and hard.

pHILLIP worked as swiftly as pos-

.sible but it was twenty minutes be-
fore he finally straightened and faced
Simar. The eastern sky was a blazing
red now and the heat from the onrush-
ing billions of meteors was begining to
grow' uncomfortable.

“The machine’s ready,” he said.

Simar stepped to the control panel
and snapped the three main connections
into place, then threw the switch that
sent sparks to the ray chamber.

Instantly a dozen solid rays of orange
light flashed upward from the mouth
of the barrels. When they passed
through Luna’s atmosphere they
merged into a solid band of opaque light
that widened as it moved void-ward to
repel the mcteor.s.

Simar watched ihe force shield for a
moment and there was a cold expression
of triumph on his face. He turned then
and drew the ray tube from his belt and
pointed it squarely at Phillip’s chest.

“Your usefulness is over,” he said.
He smiled mockingly. "I didn’t tell
you all the details of my plan for I was

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

125

afraid you would refuse to cooperate,
regardless of what I might do to you
or the girl. You see/’ he continued,
grinning sardonically, “the entire pop-
ulation of Lunas is to be transported
into the future by time machines. Once
there, we will have little difficulty in
subjugating the entire Universe, and
your precious Earth will be the first to
feel the weight of our attacks. Lunas
has waited long and patiently for its
moment of supreme glory and it shall
not be denied. I am going to kill you
now, Phillip Evans. The girl I intend
to keep alive, at least as long as she
amuses me. When I tire of her charms
I shall pass her on to one of the delight-
ful creatures you have seen here on
Lunas.”

He laughed openly as Phillip took
an involuntary step toward him, his
face blazing with rage.

“You don’t like that thought, do
you?” he said jeeringly. “And you
don’t like the thought of an attack
launched against an unsuspecting Earth
that will cripple her beyond the threat
of any possible retaliation. But don’t
worry too much about that. You won’t
be present to witness the destruction of
your beloved Earth.”

Phillip was tensed for the searing
bolt from the ray tube, but from the
corner of his eye he saw Captain Mal-
colm moving slowly, steadily tow-ard
Simar. And in the captain’s eyes was a
nickering gleam of awakened aware-
ness.

“For Earth I” he said softly.

A.nd as Simar wheeled toward the
sound of the unmqoected voice, Captain
Malcolm threw himself in front of the
ray tube — and died instantly as a sear-
ing livid bolt burned a clean hole
through his forehead.

But Siinar’s snifi of attention gave
Phillip a million-lo-Gne chance. And
he tnok it.

He leaped in as Simar swung back to
him and his right fist chopped down
with a vicious, axe-like stroke that
smashed into Simar’s jaw with sicken-
ing force.

The ray tube slipped from his fingers
as he fell backward, his jaw hanging
queerly.

Phillip kicked the weapon across the
platform and it dropped to the ground
twenty feet below. He dodged the rush
of one of the Lunasian creatures and
sprang to the force-shield’s control
panel.

His arm rose and fell three times and
the delicately wired, glass-encased panel
smashed into a mass of tangled wreck-
age under the bludgeoning blows of his
fists.

CIMAR scrambled to his feet and his
face was wild with terror. Phillip
turned from the wreckage of the con-
trol panel and laughed at him, bitterly,
mockingly.

“Where are your mad dreams now?”
he said harshly.

He glanced up at the angry red sky
that seemed to be seething with wild
violence as the meteor storm drew closer
and closer to the doomed city of Lunas.

“There’s your end, Simar,” he
snapped. “The force field is shattered
beyond repair and in a few minutes
there’ll be nothing left of this area but
a mass of molten ruins.”

Simar stared at the crimson sky and
his features worked fearfully. The
heat from the approaching meteor
storm was intense now and the very air
seemed charged with the ominous feel
of impending destruction.

The creatures of Lunas had scram-
bled from the base of the machine and
were scurrying down the slope to their
great city, driven by some desperate
necessity to find safety in familiar sur-
roundings.

AMAZING STORIES

The two men — Phillip and Simar —
were left alone on the observation plat-
form of the ruined machine.

Phillip was .'^miling grimly as he
walked toward the fear-crazed Simar.

“We’ll be dead in a few minutes,” he
said, “but I want the pleasure of wring-
ing your neck before I go out.”

Simar backed away from him, his lips
foam-flecked with terror. Suddenly he
wheeled and daslied for the steps that
led to the ground. Phillip leaped after
him, but he was too late. Simar reached
the steps first, plunged down them three
at a time and started the slope toward
the city at a wild, terror-driven run.

He was a hundred yards away before
Phillip realized the reason behind his
mad flight.

The time machine!

Sinmr -would know where the ma-
chine was and he was heading for it,
.striving desperately to save himself
from the death that was hurtling at the
city from the skies.

Phillip dropped to the ground and
started after him. Simar had a long
lead but Phillip forced himself until his
lungs were at the bursting point, and
gradually he cut the distance between
them, until, when they reached the city,
he was but fifty yards behind him.

The frantic creatures of Lunas paid
not the slightest attention to the run-
ning men. They had collected in the
streets of the city and -were staring at
the sullen red sky with a hopeless
apathy. They awaited their death with
a queer blend of terror and fatalism.

When Simar reached the great pal-
ace building he rushed through the gate
and by the time Phillip reached the
mammoth throne room he had disap-
peared.

But there was only one other exit
from the room and Phillip headed for it
without breaking his stride.

He charged through the door, and

something crashed into the side of his
head with stunning force. He fell to
his knees, blinded by the blow.

“You fool ! ” Siraar’s harsh voice grat-
ed in his ears.

jpHILLIP tried to rise, but Simar’s

foot crashed into his face, sprawl-
ing him to the floor. He heard dim-
ly the sound of Simar’s retreating foot
steps, but before he could crawl to his
feet the sound had died away and he
w^as alone in a wide corridor that
stretched endlessly ahead.

He started down the corridor at a
half-trot, disregarding the hammering
pain ih his skull. His heart was pound-
ing frantically. He had to find Nada
and he had to stop Simar from leaving
with the time machine — and in a matter
of seconds a million tons of molten
death would strike the city of Lunas,
burying it forever.

He staggered on desperately, half-
sobbing and half-blinded with pain, un-
til he could go no further; his knees
buckled and he fell forward on his face.

He lay there for a moment and the
rest was like paradise. A delicious
weariness flooded him and the darkness
in front of his eyes grew deeper and
blacker.

He made no move to rise. His mus-
cles were like tangled, twisted rope. He
had tried. He had done everything pos-
sible. There was no longer any use
fighting. He couldn’t even move.

A high-pitched scream of terror
sounded faintly in his ears, and it cut
through the fog of wearine.ss like a
clean, sharp knife.

With a strength he didn’t know be
possessed he climbed to his feet and
staggered in the direction of that sound.
It had been close and as he stumbled
forward he listened for a repetition of
the sound. But no other sound broke the
stillness.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

127

He charged on like a drunken man
and if he hadn’t lost his balance and
reeled against the wall, he would have
passed by a door that fitted perfectly
into the wall and that swung open as his
weight pressed against it.

He twisted to keep from falling and
plunged into a small room, outfitted as
a laboratory.

'‘Phillipl”

The voice was to his side. He swung
about and saw Nada struggling in
Simar’s arms. One of Simar’s hands
grasped the handhold of the gleaming
time machine and with the other he was
attempting to force Nada’s fingers
about one of the three remaining hand-
holds.

“Damn you I ” Simar shouted harshly,
as he saw Phillip’s staggering figure. He
grabbed a heavy metal bar from the
table and sprang toward him, but Nada
twdsted and stuck her foot in his path.
He stumbled and fell, his face disfig-
ured with insane rage.

And before his wildly twisting body
could strike the floor Phillip stepped
in and slugged him with every ounce of
his weight and strength behind the
blow.

Simar fell, and when he struck the
floor he didn’t move.

Phillip stepped over his body and
grabbed the handhold of the time ma-
chine.

“Hang on, honey,” he said.

J^E threw the switch and instantly
the orange cone of light appeared,
bathing the gleaming machine with its
brilliance.

There was a loud, roaring noise above
them that grew steadily in volume. The
heat was intolerable in the small room.

“How much time do we have?” Nada
asked.

Phillip started to speak but a scream-
ing, whistling roar drowned his words.

“The comets have struck the moon’s
atmosphere,” he said. “We have about
five seconds.”

Darkness, unreal and ghostly sud-
denly dropped over the room. A vast
suction plucked at them and a new noise
smashed against their eardrums.

“Hurry, hurry,” Nada cried, and her
voice held a prayer.

A roaring, crashing crescendo of noise
broke about them and they felt the
floor beneath their feet tremble sud-
denly as if a giant’s fist had smashed
against it. A great fissure broke in the
wall and a section of the heavy ceiling
fell dangerously close to them, crum-
bling the floor beneath its weight.

And at that instant, as the heavy
walls began to crumble, they felt the
suddent powerful suction lifting them
upward, and then the darkness closed
about them, as the mighty palace of the
Lunasians dissolved in a fiery hail of
thousand ton meteors,

CHAPTER IX

pHILLIP regained consciousness

slowly. He glanced to one side and
saw Nada lying beside him and when
he climbed to one knee he recognized
the surroundings as the laboratory of
the Astra.

A deep feeling of relief swept over
him. Simar was dead, the Lunasian city
had been destroyed and he and Nada
were safe.

But there still remained a big job
to be done.

He revived Nada and when she
looked around her eyes were suddenly
wet. “I can’t believe we’re safe,” she
whispered.

He helped her to her feet and held
her close to him.

“We’re safe, but there’s still work
to be done,” he said. “Before we leave
Luna I intend to bla.^t the valley of

12S

AMAZING STORIES

the Liinasian city to dust. That should
release the disembodied life forces that
are clinging to the area like some hate-
ful miasma. I won’t feel really safe un-
til that’s done. As long as there re-
mains the possibility of the life forces
taking possession of human bodies I
would never rest easy. I’m going to
give the orders immediately.”

He pressed a button on the lab bench
that sent a signal through the ship for
Eric Marmon, the third in charge, to
report to the laboratory.

Marmon arrived a few minutes later
and he looked surprised to see them.
He was a small wiry man, with piercing
blue eyes and dark hair.

“Where have you been?” he asked,
“We thought you and the captain were
out on a private scouting party.”

“Nothing like that,” Phillip said. He
didn’t intend to tell anyone his story
until the valley had been blasted and
they were safely away from Luna. “I
want you to order every available man
to assist you in preparing the valley for
immediate blasting. Spray liquid ex-
plosive over the entire area and we’ll
detonate it when we take off. Under-
stand, I don’t want an}'- man to go into
the valley for any reason. Is that
clear?”

“Why, yes,” Marmon said, “but it
sounds rather odd. Where is Captain
Malcolm?”

Phillip thought of the captain’s last,
action and he said slowly, “I don’t
really know, but I am sure he’d be sat-
islied with what we’re doing. Will you
get on it right away, ^larmon?”

Marmon nodded agreement and left
the room.

“I’m going to change,” Phillip said
to Nada, “then I’ll be outside keeping
an eye on the job. Would you like to
watch the w^ork?”

“I’d love to,” Nada said. “I’ll join
you outside in a few minutes.”

jpHILLIP changed into clean clothes

and it was fifteen minutes later
when he stepped out of the ship. A
dozen of the crew were setting up the
explosive sprayers which were capable
of drenching a twenty-five mile area in
a matter of minutes.

The liquid explosive was pumped un-
der compression and the huge nozzles
of the sprayer pointed upw'ard at about
the angle of an artillery mortar.

Marmon was in charge. Phillip
glanced at the gauges on the three huge
tanks of explosives and then checked
the angle of the nozzles and the auto-
matic regulator devices. Everything
was in perfect order, but the rest of the
crew was not in evidence.

He glanced at Marmon.

“Where are the rest of the men? I
told you to put the entire crew to work
on this.”

Marmon had been staring at the
ground with a faint smile on his lips
and when he looked up Phillip felt a
chill of horror as he saw the man’s
glazed, sullen eyes.

He shot a quick glance at the man
standing behind Marmon and he saw
the same glazed expression, the same
vacant stare that Captain Malcolm had
worn,

These men -were possessed by the life
jorees that emanated from the valley
oj the Lunasian city!

Marmon was still smiling at him with
cold, glazed eyes.

“Don’t you know me?” he said softly.
“You left me lying for dead on the
floor of the Aganda’s palace in Lunas
just a short while ago.”

Simar!

Phillip drew a sharj) breath.

Yes, there was no doubt of it. Some-
how Simar had bridged the gap in time!
His life force had lived in the buried
ruins of Lunas and was now in pos-
session of Marmon.

PHANTOM CITY OF LUNA

129

“You asked about the crew,” the man
he had known as Marmon said softly.
“They are aboard the Astra, chained
in the brig. You are going back to the
Astra and seal the hatchways, Mr.
Evans. Are you curious about what is
going to happen to you? I won’t keep
you in suspense. We are going to turn
the explosive spray on the Astra and
blow it and everyone aboard clear to
hell. Now, start back for the Astral’*

A ray gun appeared in Marmon’s
hand and he gestured viciously toward
the ship. Phillip backed slowly away
from the group of men and he saw that
they were swinging the nozzles of the
explosive spray to bear on the Astra.

His mind was racing furiously, but he
could think of nothing that might save
the situation. He stepped aboard the
Astra and he saw Marmon raise his
hand and shout an order to the men at
the explosive spray.

But before they could move one of
the mighty atomic cannons in the nose
of the Astra swung swiftly about in its
turret; an orange blast billowed from its
muzzle and the man that had been
Marmon was blown into nothingness
by the tremendous charge. The can-
non swung again, another blast ripped
from its muzzle and the group at the
explosive sprayer disappeared into frag-
ments.

pHILLIP slammed the hatch door and
ran down the corridor to the firing
tower of the ship. He found Nada be-
hind one of the huge atomic cannons.
Her head was buried in her arms and
she was sobbing.

“I had to do it,” she moaned. “I
found the crew in the brig but I couldn’t

get them out.”

Phillip patted her on the shoulder.

“It was the only thing to do,” he
said.

He glanced out the steel-enforced
window and he saw that the second blast
had swung the explosive sprayers about
and that great streams of liquid were
spraying over the valley. A pool of the
tremendously explosive liquid had al-
ready collected in the basin of the val-
ley and Phillip knew that soon the en-
tire depression would be completely
innundated.

He stepped to the control panel and
discharged the rear rockets. As the
Astra began to tremble under the swift-
ly building power, he moved to the
breech of the atomic cannon and fired
a blast directly into the collecting pool
of high explosives in the basin of the
valley.

The Astra blasted off with a whistling
roar of power, streaking void-ward with
its rockets leaving trailing pin-points
of light gleaming in the thin atmosphere
of Luna.

And below the valley of the Lunasian
city exploded with a tremendous, cata-
clysmic roar that heaved the relics of
the eon-old city miles into the air; and
the undead life forces of the ancient,
evil city died then — a hundred thousand
years after their appointed time.

Phillip and Nada watched the ex-
plosion in the rear visi-screen.

When the terrific velocity of the
Astra carried them beyond the range
of Luna, Phillip glanced down at the
girl in his arms and smiled. Nada
started to speak but suddenly she found
her lips occupied with other matters.

The End

GIVE YOUR MONEY ^^LEBENSRAUM "

USE IT TO BUY WAR BONDS

PRESERVE YOUR OWN LIVING SPACE

MASTER OF THE

LIVING DEAD

By ED EARL REPP

Steve thought the advertisement
was a joke. But he changed his mind
when MexI Blair lost face — literally!

I lAKE a look at the story Tve
I got marked out on page one,
beautiful!” Steve Mallory
spread a newspaper out on the lunch
room table in front of Merl Blair.
“That daJksified ad I told you about
sometime ago has broken into the news
columns.”

Like many New Yorkers who sought
escape from the mad, banging clatter
of Times Square, the young couple had
come to Danny’s Restaurant for lunch
and a quiet hour together. Here the
shrilling of police whistles, the clamor
of traffic, the snarling whine of sirens
and a thousand-odd other instruments
grinding out a symphony of noise were
muted by the efficient sound-proofing of
the popular eating place. It was said
in praise that in a rear booth you didn’t
have to yell through a megaphone to
be heard across the table.

Steve and Merl frequently went
there when he could get away from
the paper long enough and she could
leave Acme Insurance for a time in
the hands of the company president.
Of course you had to pay dearly for
such privacy and quiet. But being
young and in love they liked to pretend

that a young reporter could afford such
luxuries for the girl who wcis going to
be his wife. Yet both knew that as
private secretary to H. A. McCafferty,
she earned almost twice as much as
he did as a twenty-five-dollar-a-week
newshawk.

Merl Blair, brunette, blue-eyed and
trim in her neat tweed business suit,
picked up the newspaper to glance in-
tently over the two-column box in the
lower right hand corner. A little frown
furrowed her forehead as she read the
words within the square.

“The ad is still running, is it?” she
said without looking up. “I thought it
was a joke or a patent medicine adver-
tisement with a new angle.”

“That’s what we figured at first,”
Steve said, breaking open a French
roll, “but police headquarters is get-
ting interested. It smacks of skull-
duggery.”

Merl’s eyes, accustomed to reading
insurance policies rapidly, swept with
growing interest over the article. At
the top of the box was a reprint of the
mysterious advertisement that had been
running in all the metropolitan dailies
for almost a year. It read:

132

AMAZING STORIES

NEW BODIES FOB OLD!

Are you young in spirit and desires,
but old in body ? Does a seventy-year-
old face deny you the companionship
of young people ? If so, you are being
cheated of the things science and skill
can give you. A new process has en-
abled a select number of men and
women to become fifty years younger.

If you would like to exchange the ugli-
ness of old age for the beauty and
vitality of youth — without plastic sur-
gery:;— write Box 34, this newspaper,
for particulars.

Merl looked up with a musical laugh.
“It makes the Fountain of Youth sound
like a fish pond, doesn’t it?” she com-
mented.

“You haven’t read anything yet,
Sugar,” Steve grinned. “Read it all —
carefully. I wrote it.”

Again her eyes dropped^ to the paper
and she read the artide beneaA the ad
slowly and half aloud to grasp its full
import.

“For the past two years the larger
New York papers have carried this
advertisement. And now, on the heels
of several unexplained disappearances,
the police are endeavoring to find out
if there is any connection between the
missing persons and the advertisement. ■
“All replies to ‘Box 34’ are answered
by a pamphlet left in care of the news-
papers. The pamphlet is still more
incredible. It warns prospective
customers to be prepared to spend large
amounts of money, and to furnish
references. If the beauty seekers are
still not frightened away, they are in-
structed to do the following strange
things: Insert a classified ad stating
the exact hour that they will be ready
for a call from ‘Mr. Jones’. Rent a
house for a month and have installed
therein a shdrt wave transmitter. Have
a telephone iristaUed. At the hour they
liave stated they will be ready for the
advertiser’s call, sent out on a certain
wave-length the number of their tele-
phone.

“Dauntless even in the face of these
instructions, police investigators have
followed them to the letter. Each time,
within fifteen seconds of their giving the
phone number to ‘Mr. Jones’ in this
roundabout way, they have had a call
from him.

“The prospect is asked his name, his
address, his telephone number. He is
then warned to leave the house imme-
diately, before police, who will also
have picked up his telephone number
on the short wave can have time to
trace the number and pick him up.

“However, the mysterious Mr. Jones
has never called any of the police in-
vestigators. Apparently he does some
investigating of his own. Whatever the
answer, police admit that they are no
nearer the solution than they were
before they tackled the problem. For
the time being it remains one of Man-
hattan’s strangest puzzles.”

■jVyTERL’S lips broke suddenly into an
amused smile. “What some
people won’t do for a joke!” she
laughed.

Steve took a bite of the roll. “I
don’t know a^ut that joke business,”
he mused. “There’s hundreds of people
with money who would give plenty to
have a beautiful face. And there are
plenty of others who need a change
of face just as bad, only they don’t
seem to know it.”

“Meaning me, I suppose?” Merl said
crisply. She laid her fork down and
reached for her hat, her lips set in a
tight line.

“Hey, not so fast!” Steve stopped
her. “I make a harmless remark and
you turn it into an insult. Still, I ought
to know by now that everything I say is
eventually used against me. What I
meant was people like old Hatchet Face
that runs your apartment house.”

The girl laid her hat down again.

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

133

“Well, that’s better,” she said severely.
“Besides, I may look terrible right now,
but you’ll have to admit by tonight that
I’ve been gloriously transformed. I got
the whole afternoon off just to get my-
self made over for our Saturday night
splurge.”

Steve looked interested. “Going to
wear that blue dress I like?’”

Merl shook her head. She placed
her elbows on the table, cupped her
chin in her hands and said radiantly,
“I*m going to be rejuvenated from head
to foot. New dress, new shoes, new
everything. Then I’m going to the
beauty parlor for the rest of the day.
ril be wearing a white flower in my
buttonhole so you’ll know me.”

And so, in the dozens of little things
that required telling about her new
outfit, the subject of the strange ad-
vertisement was lost. But back in
Steve’s mind there still lurked a suspi-
cion that w<is not quite covered up.
He was more intrigued by the problem
than he had admitted. For there
seemed to be a certain relation be-
tween the strange disappearance of sev-
eral persons lately and the ad. A rela-
tion that even the police could not ex-
plain, nor Steve, whose paper had had
him on the job from time to time.

Time passed swiftly. Suddenly
Steve shot a look at his wrist watch.
“Good night!” he exclaimed. “I’m due
at the office ten minutes ago. I’ll
see you tonight at the apartment —
ei^t o’clock. Gonna be on time for
onqe/”

Without waiting for a retort, he
grabbed the check and headed for the
door, A jangle of noise swept through
the door as it swung behind him, and
then he was gone.

O’clock found Merl st^ll buSily
scanning shop-windows. Her trim
little figure, supple in an attractive gray

suit, moved from window to window,
apparently aimlessly; then, suddenly,
she would disappear into a door and
reappear with a new bundle.

It was just after she decided to cut
her shopping tour short that she no-
ticed the man watching her. As she
shot a swift glance at him, she realized
she had seen him behind her for some
time. She was puzzled when he smiled
and tipped his hat.

She frowned as her mind groped for
remembrance of him. He was a^ut six
feet tall, with wide, bony shoulders and
thin hips. His skin had a piT\k-, well-
massaged look. He wore a well-fitting
dark suit and a derby. At fir^t glance
he looked like any prosperous stock-,
broker, but something in his face gave
the lie to his prosaic appearance. His
eyes were a frigid luminous green, his
brows black and heavy. A broad, flat
nose overhung a mouth which, in spite
of its present smile, wore a contemptu-
ous look. There was nothing on which
the girl could pin her instant dislike of
him, but she had the feeling that no mat-
ter what his face expressed, his mind
would be disdainful. While she was
still considering him, he stepped from
the curb and approached her.

vSomething about him compelled her
to wait for him. His voice was faintly
mocking as he smiled, “I believe we
have a mutual acquaintance.”

“I — I don’t believe so,” the girl fal-
tered. She was on the point of walking
away when he touched her arm and
pointed across the sidewalk.

“Have you forgotten tliat gentle-
man?” he asked.

Merl’s eyes flashed to the spot he in-
dicated. Abruptly, she winced and a
little cry escaped her as something
pricked her arm where he had touched
her. In a flash she whirled on hiqi. “I
don’t know you, and I don’t know ISrrf! ”
she flared. “What’s more, I — I—”

134

‘ AMAZING STORIES

Then she stopped. She raised her hand
and passed it across her brow. She felt
a strange lassitude seeping through her
body. Suddenly she wanted to relax
and just wander along lazily not think-
ing, not struggling. She felt as though
she would rather someone else did her
thinking for her. This man, for in-
stance.

The man seemed agreeable to the
idea too, for his disdainful lips parted
momentarily to breathe, “My car is at
the curb. Won’t you let me take you
home?”

Merl nodded. Unresisting, she al-
lowed herself to be helped into the
coupe and driven off. The sedan headed
swiftly down Broadway, until it was
swallowed up in the hundreds of other
automobiles which surged back and
forth down the thoroughfare. One of
her bundles still lay on the sidewalk,
where she had dropped it.

CHAPTER il
The Living Dead

' I ^HERE was something empty, some-
thing far-off about the sound of the
doorbell as Steve pressed it that night.
It didn’t sound the way a doorbell
should, somehow. But maybe it was
the fact that there was no noisy little
tattoo of high heels as soon as its sum-
mons ceased.

Mallory leaned against the wall by
the door and grinned vacantly at the
cellophane florist’s-box he held between
his flattened palms. Inside it, resplend-
ent beneath its gleaming cover, lay a
single white orchid.

After a moment he shoved his thumb
against the button once more. Again
the far-off ring of the bell. And still no
answering heels or cry of, “Hold your
horses, mister! I’ll be right there.”

Frowning a little. Steve Mallory

pressed the button a third time. He
waited, then knocked loudly and called,
“Merl! Are you in there?”

There was no answer. Cold fear
gripped at Steve’s vitals. An unnamed
dread lay hold of his senses and para-
lyzed him for a moment. Then he shook
off the feeling and pounded louder.
This time he got a reply.

Down the hall a klaxon-like voice
rang out, “ITl trouble yez to keep yer
shoutin’ an’ hallooin’ fer the streets, Mr.
Mallory! If the young lady ain’t in.
w’hy don’t yez stay at home fer a
change?” Mrs. Sewell, buxom and red-
haired, stood with her arms crossed be-
fore her door and nodded viciously to
emphasize her managerial authority.

Steve swung around and strode hur-
riedly towards the woman. “Did she
leave any word for me?” he asked, ig-
noring her tirade.

“Nary a word,” the manager told
him. “Now, why don’t yez run along
an’ . . .”

“But I had a date at eight o’clock
with her.” Steve frowned. “It’s not like
her to leave me waiting this way. Do
you have an extra key?”

Mrs. Sewell sighed resignedly. “Very
well,” she gave in. “Here’s the key, an’
bring it back when you’re convinced she
ain’t there.”

Steve hurried back and let himself in.
He stood in the doorway for a moment
looking, tight-lipped, about the apart-
ment. There was no sign of Merl’s hav-
ing been home since he talked to her.
No bundles, no strings on the floor from
packages hastily opened. He went
through the three rooms hurriedly and
finally stood in the middle of the room
and bit his lip thoughtfully.

Cold fear was creeping up his spine.
Why hadn’t she been home? Saturday
night was their big night, when they
took in dinner and then a show, or per-
haps a dance. She lived alone, so there

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

135

was no one to give him any clues as to
where she might have stayed. But eight
o’d^ckl She should have been home
by six.

He thought of everything that might
have happened to her. Accidents. Sud-
den sitlcness. Amnesia. With a mut-
tered curse he shook off the fears and
strode to the telephone. He knew a
few of the girl’.s friends, and he sat
down to call them.

It was half an hour before he gave
up. At the end of that time he knew
not a thing more than he had. With a
sudden wave of realization he knew that
Merl was gone — that his fears had not
been groundless, or he would have lo-
cated her somewhere. Frantically he
dialed police headquarters and told
them the facts, gave a detailed descrip-
tion of the girl. Steve Mallory was
well-known at headquarters, and well-
liked. He received the desk sergeant’s
promise to do all that could possibly
be done for Mm.

White-faced and a little shaken, he
locked the apartment again and took a
taxi to the Herald office. Tom Noble,
city editor cm the paper, was the best
friend Steve had, despite the discrep-
ancy ih their ages and the fact that No-
ble was his boss. He sought him in-
stinctively now, knowing Noble’s
shrewd mind would ferret out the es-
sential facts needed to find the girl.

^JOBLE w^as still at his desk in the
city room, his stout body tipped
back in the chair, coat open, vest un-
done. A puzzled smile came over his
face when he saw the boy back again.
He scratched his head through thin-
ning white hair. “What brings you
here, Steve? Thought this was your
night with Merl?”

“’^om! She’s gone!” Steve blurted,
staijdrng over his desk and staring down
intensely.

“Gone!” Noble asked incredulously.
Then a grin softened the sudden harsh
lines of his face. “I get it. Two-timing
you for some other guy, eh?”

“Oh, God, I only wish she were!” the
boy groaned. Hurriedly he went on to
blurt out the whole story. He concluded
frantically, “Where can she be, Tom?
She wouldn’t stand me up like this on
purpose.”

Noble tapped thoughtfully on the
desk top with a pencil point. “I don’t
know,” he replied quietly. “You’ve
called the police?”

“Everybody. All her friends, her
boss — everybody I know who^d have
any ideas.” On a sudden thought he
stiffened. “Tom! You don’t suppose
— that ad — the one about new bodies,
pretty faces for old ones — ”

Noble laughed softly. “Oh, now,
don’t get so excited, my boy,” he ad-
vised kindly. “That ad is nothing but
a joke, in my opinion. Or else it’s a
trick of some crooks for communicating
important information. That would be
an absolutely fool-proof system.”

“But maybe it’s not a joke! Maybe
— maybe white slaves, or — God knows
what.”

Noble shoved back from the desk and
pulled out a bottom drawer. “Steve,”
he said sternly, “I’ve got what you need
right here. I save it for occasions like
this. You’re going to put about four
fingers down and then you’re going to
relax and sit right here until we get a
call from headquarters saying they
found her asleep M some theater, where
she went after shopping. White slaves

! Why with an imagination like

that, you’ll be doing a syndicated col-
umn in no time 1 ”

pOR an hour after the man had ac-
costed her on the street, Merl was
in a fog of strange lassitude and mental
sleepiness. When at last she came out

136

AMAZING STORIES

of it, she thought, for one shocked in-
stant, that she was still in a nightmare.
Huddled in a chair, she sent an incredu-
lous glance about her, trying to piece
the crazy-quilt facts she remembered
into a complete story.

She was in a corner of a big, white-
walled room. At the corner to her right
the room jutted out into a large, cir-
cular alcove which seemed to be a sup-
ply room. At her left, diametrically
across from the supply room, was an-
other alcove full of strange apparatus
and webbed with glass tubes. Straight
ahead of her, in fact taking the whole
room in one glance, she saw that it was
completely bare. But in the very cen-
ter of the place there was a large, rec-
tangular, glassed-over section beneath
which she could see machinery and two
operating tables. There were steps
leading down to this, though they were
cut off now by the glass shield over the
sub-floor room.

The girl saw no one, nor heard any-
one, so after a moment she stood up
and moved down towards the alcove to
the left. As she drew closer to it, she
felt a cold wave of revulsion sweep her.
At first, not seeing anything to base her
sensation of disgust upon, she thought
it was simply fear. Then, as she stood
in the very entrance to the place — she
understood.

In the center of the room was a large
glass apparatus consisting of two great
cylinders side by side, with a maze of
hundreds of thread-like glass tubes
leading from them. One of the tanks
was filled with a clear liquid; the other
was a dark red. Some of the tubes
leading from them appeared to be empty
because of the transparency of the liq-
uid they carried. Others were dark,
like the tank on the right. The level
of the liquids changed constantly, surg-
ing up and down, up and down, regu-
larly.

A small battery of black machinery
ringed about the tanks accounted for
this motion, apparently. But it was the
contents of the glass globes on shelves
that lined the semi-circular wall of the
alcove that made Merl shudder.

Straight across from her she thought
she made out human heads within the
fishbowl-like containers! They were
old and wrinkled, with scraggly hair
drifting before the faces like undersea
growths surging to and fro. The eyes
were wide open, and Merl decided they
must be lidless. Then to her horror
she saw one of the heads blink its eyes
exactly like a live head would! The
eyes glanced about, stopped on the girl’s
shuddering form, then moved on rest-
les.sly.

“Good Heavens!” she gasped, her
hand flying to her throat.

In other bowls she saw human hands
drifting slightly in the liquid that filled
them. She saw one bowl entirely filled
with little white globes that could be
only one thing — ^human eyes! There
was a foot in another container, a fore-
arm in still another. Suddenly the girl
went cold. Her stomach seemed to drop
and her legs felt weak. But before her
shocked senses could recoil completely
before the gruesome sight, and leave her
lying senseless on the floor, a voice
brought her whirling about.

“A very interesting display, don’t you
think?” the man said tauntingly. “T
can assure you that you will not find
anything like it anywhere else in the
world.”

Marl’s widened, terror-filled eyes
flashed over the form of the man who
had abducted her. But now he was
dressed in a surgeon’s smock, and was
wearing rubber gloves. Behind him
stood a huge, black-thatched man in a
similar outfit.

“What do you mean by bringing me
here?” she flared suddenly, anger wash-

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

137

ing the fear from her heart. “If you’ve
kidnaped me, I can promise you you
won’t get a cent. I have no relatives,
and no one with any money to pay you.”

“My dear young woman, you wrong
me. I am no kidnaper. I am what you
might call a — substitutional plastic sur-
geon.” The man wrung his hands
briskly.

Something in his tones brought the
cold terror back into Merl’s heart again.
She licked her lips and tried to speak,
but this time the words would not come.

“Now, you needn’t 'be frightened,
young woman,” the man said severely.
“If you have any ideas that I might be
wanting to add you to my collection,
here, don’t worry yourself about that.
Nor am I trying to get money from you.
Quite the contrary — I intend to make
you one of the wealthiest women in
New Yorkl”

lYyERL BLAIR clenched her small
fists and faced him, white-lipped,
determined to find out what she was
faced with. “Will you please tell me
what you want with me?” she de-
manded. “Who are you? And what
do you mean by that — making me one
of the richest women in New York?”

She looked very small, very fright-
ened, and yet very pretty as she stood
before the two men and waited for a
reply. The abductor noticed it, for he
turned to his helper and smiled, “I think
Mrs. Van Gogh will be very pleased
with her, don’t you, Krishner? Exactly
the type she ordered.”

Krishner, the lumpy man who stood
behind him, nodded and muttered some-
thing unintelligible.

Now the other man turned to the girl
rather briskly, “But it is cruel to keep
you in the dark like this. First — let me
introduce myself. I am Dr. Eric Stur-
vison. You may remember I was re-
lieved of my license some five years ago

for what was termed ‘dangerous and
distasteful experimentation on human
bodies.’ To prove how utterly wrong
they were, I have gone on with my work
and perfected a method for making old
men and women as beautiful as the
young.”

“Then you are the man who runs that
adl” Merl accused.

“Exactly. And to show you how
much I mean it, let me show you some-
thing.” He took the girl’s arm and led
her to the center of the room, to the
very edge of the glassed-in cubicle be-
low. Merl flinched at his touch, but she
knew how useless resistance would be.
Her whole being shuddered at the
thought of looking down there, but she
finally brought her gaze down through
the glass into the operating room below.

A little cry escaped her. Her shocked
gaze took in the form of an old woman
lying on one of two operating tables,
covered from foot to neck with a sheet.
Her face was wrinkled and seamed, yel-
lowed with age and drawn. The lips
drew in about the mouth over toothless
gums. Her eyes were closed in sleep.

“The lady is Mrs. Van Gogh,” Stur-
vison said. “One of the wealthiest pa-
tients I have attended yet. She grew
so homely and old that she finally de-
cided to submit to my treatment. The
face she selected was to be oval shaped,
blue eyed, brown haired, smooth of com-
plexion. Type number 13, to be spe-
cific. In other words — your own type I ”

The girl fell back in terror as the
whole, ghastly idea penetrated her
frozen consciousness. She felt the big,
hard hands of Krishner close on her
shoulders, pinning her helplessly
against him.

Sturvison come closer to her, his cold
green eyes glaring at her with fanatical
intensity. “I think you understand
now,” he said tightly. “Your own head
is to be removed from your lovely shoul-

138

AMAZING STORIES

ders and placed on the shrivelled,
stooped — but wealthy — body of the
hag down in the operating chamber!
No, I am not mad,” he said, as her eyes
told him the thoughts in her mind. “Un-
less you call it mad to prefer making
a hundred thousand dollars for an oper-
ation such as this to giving my discov-
ery to the scientific world — the scien-
tific world that turned me out in the
cold. In the two years I have been
working here, I have amassed a little
fortune of one and one-half million dol-
lars.”

Terror held Merl rigid as he went on
quickly. He was talking now with a
boastful tone in his voice, taking this
opportunity to flaunt his discoveries be-
fore a helpless victim.

“You will notice the odd arrangement
of the two operating tables,” he said.
“They are placed head to head for con-
venience. Between them you see a flat,
enameled wheel, placed so that it cuts off
the right corner of one table and the
corresponding corner of the other.
Your head will lie on one part of the
wheel, and Mrs. Van Gogh’s on the
other, diametrically opposite. At the
proper time, I press a switch, and the
wheel makes one-half revolution — •
faster than the eye can see. When the
wheel stops, Mrs. Van Gogh will have
the head of a beautiful girl — while you,
my dear, will be possessed of the tooth-
less head of a hag! But you will not
be forced to meet the world with such a
face. You will be placed in my ‘body
bank,’ where I retain such bodies as
yours for future use. Suspended ani-
mation preserves beautiful bodies for
me until the time when I am able to
perform other operations than this one.”

He spoke sharply to Krishner. “The
needle,” he clipped. Without waiting
for a response, he turned and pressed
a switch on the floor. The glass shield
slid back and left the cubicle free to

their entrance. Sturvison went down
the steps.

Again there was a slight stab in the
girl’s arm. She cried out, tried to slide
from Krishner’s grip. And then the
deadly lassitude came down over her
and held her powerless. The giant
helper picked her up in his arms, car-
ried her down the steps, and laid her on
the operating table.

CHAPTER III

Voice from the Grave

pOR Merl the next five minutes were
a ghastly nightmare. It was like one
of those dreams in which one knows he
is sleeping, and yet cannot awake. But
not for a second did she lose conscious-
ness. Sturvison hovered over her
threateningly, his harsh voice crackling
in her ears like an electric arc.

“I have one of my less successful fel-
low-scientists to thank for the success I
myself have had,” he told her, almost
boastfully. “Were it not for the discov-
ery of Dr. Schwartz of the Carnegie In-
stitution that the brains of earthworms
lose their memories in the process of
transplantation, I might never have con-
ceived the idea of transplanting human
heads from one body to the other.* But
that interesting fact reassured me about
something. No human being upon
whom I operated could ever remember
anything about the operation! Thus
I am always perfectly protected. When
your head is on Mrs. Van Gogh’s shoul-
ders, your brain will have no recollec-
tion of anything prior to the operation.
I will inform her of all the facts she
needs to know regarding her past life.
Within two weeks she will be ready
to re-enter society. And your own body
will be saved by suspended animation

* Free, E. E., “New Bodies for Old,” American
Weekly. April 10, 1038.

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

J39

for future use — in my ‘body bank’.”

Sturvision smiled bleakly and started
to lay out a few simple surgical instru-
ments on the table beside him. But he
did not remain silent for long. His sci-
entific being, starved for the com-
panionship of men of his caliber, whose
society had been denied him because of
his own experiments, was now preening
itself in half-boastful, half-didatic ex-
planations.

“My w^ork here is not new,” he went
on slowly. “For years men have been
working towards the end I have
achieved. Heynians managed to keep
a dog’s head alive as much as twenty-
five years ago. Giersberg, of the Uni-
versity of Breslau, transplanted the
brains of tadpoles successfully. Pro-
fessor Hans Przibram, at the Univer-
sity of Vienna, has even managed to
transplant the heads of certain grass-
hopper-like insects and restore the in-
sects to complete normalcy.

“But this was nothing compared to
the task that faced me if I were ever
to see my dreams realized. I had to
manage to transplant human heads in
the space of time it takes a heart to
beat. Less than a second, in other
words. It must be done so fast that no
blood can be lost. That is the purpose
of the wheel upon which your head is
resting — beside that of this wealthy
hag. But even the lightning action of
this machine will not suffice to maintain
life if the arteries are severed.
Hence — ” Sturvison exhibited several
feet of transparent, flexible tubing to
the girl. “ — artificial veins, you might
call them. Before I separate your head
from your body, I transfer the flow of
blood from your veins and arteries to
the corresponding ones of this woman,
by means of these tubes. After the
operation, they shrink and dissolve,
leaving the veins perfectly healed. So
you see, even before the operation takes

place, your blood is pumping through
her head, and hers through yours.”

Now he turned swiftly and took two
odd-looking masks from the operating-
room closet a short distance away.
Merl’s eyes watched him helplessly.
Terror had left her numb. She seemed
to see and hear these things with an air
of detachment, as though she were sep-
arated from her body. With the awful
implication of that thought, her mind
rushed to the thing that was being done
to her. It w’as incredulous, impossible
to believe— that her own head was to
be put on the old woman’s body, and
the wealthy woman’s head on hers. She
shuddered as she thought of going
through life with a body already old,
a body horrible to look at. Her mind
recoiled from thinking of the effect it
would have on Steve to see her like this.
Then the lumbering assistant’s face
loomed over her, and brought her back
to the things at hand.

Krishner was wearing one of the
masks Sturvison had just procured. His
blocky face looked unearthly behind the
gleaming goggles and the gray rubber
mask. The mask puffed and relaxed,
puffed and relaxed, with his breathing.
A small tank was strapped to his chest
now. Before she could move, a set
of straps were thrown across her
breasts, holding her tightly on the table.
Her arms and legs were then secured
in the same manner.

^TURVISON strode quickly across

the small room to a switchboard near
the steps. He threw a knife switch in.
Instantly the glass shield over the
room slid closed. Then he returned
to the table and fixed a mask onto
Merl’s face. The touch of the scien-
tist’s cold, moist hands repelled her,
but she was utterly powerless to fight
now.

His voice came to her with a soft,

140

AMAZING STORIES

muffled tone, deadened by layers of
mask material. “A necessary precau-
tion, though somewhat awkward for
Krishner and myself. Ordinary germi-
cides are useless in such an operation as
this. The entire room must be filled
with an antiseptic gas.” As he spoke,
he reached beneath the operating tables
and turned on a tank of compressed
gas. In a matter of seconds the room
was filled with swirling green layers of
poisonous gas.

Like undersea monsters, barely seen
in the gloom, Krishner and Sturvison
moved about, adjusting the bodies of
Merl and the old woman to exact spots
on the tables. The adjustments were
checked and rechecked, for this was
the most important part of the opera-
tion, When the wheel spun, the heads
must be in exactly the right position
to fit onto their new bodies.

Now the two surgeons — Sturvison
quick and sure, Krishner plodding and
acting as though he worked by mental
order from the scientist — swung from
the head of each table a shining, heavy
knife that pivoted on an axis close to
each woman’s head. With a single,
swift motion, the knives would do their
work, and as they flashed through the
slots beneath the subjects’ necks, a
switch would be tripped which would
revolve the wheel. A few pin-pricks
told Merl that the artificial veins were
being installed.

Meri’s lips parted as though she
would cry out, but she made no sound.
The gas in her own ma.sk was not pure
air. Slowly and steadily insensibility
was seeping through her body. Her
eyelids felt heavy and her breath
seemed to come more slowly with every
drawn gasp. Over her body hung the
ghastly, masked face of Dr. Sturvison,
faintly seen through the drifting swirls
of green vapor. He clipped an order
to Krishner, and the giant’s shoulders

bulged as he prepared to swing his
knife through the Van Gogh’s woman’s
neck.

The girl’s slim body tensed against
the straps that held her powerless.
With one last effort she managed a
scream through her bloodless lips. But
the sound was weak, scarcely carrying
to the scientist. Then, as consciousness
fled from her, she saw Sturvison’s face
distort. He sn-'pped, ‘'Now!”

The last thing Merl was conscious
of was a shining arc swinging through
the green fog. . . .

q^wo endless days of anxiety had
made Steve Mallory a haggard, dis-
traught figure. The day after MerTs
disappearance he had spent in dashing
here and there investigating every pos-
sible angle that might lead him to her,
but by now he realized the futility of
running around without any plan in
mind.

Tom Noble was doing everything he
could to pacify the boy. He published
pictures of the missing girl by the
dozen, and filled half of the first page
with news and descriptions relative to
the case. But by nine o’clock the sec-
ond night after she had vanished, he
was becoming desperate himself.

With a feeble attempt at reassurance,
he told him, now, “It must be amnesia,
Steve. That’s all it can be. People
don’t just vanish like that without any
trace. If it was — murder, say, the body
would have turned up by now. It’s my
bet that she’s wandering around some-
where wondering where the devil she
it.”

Steve shook his head wearily. “No,
it can’t be that, Tom. Merl was in
perfect health. Amnesia doesn’t often
attack as healthy a girl as she was.
I — I don’t know what to think. I’m
past thinking, I guess.”

The white-haired editor leaned back

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

141

in his swivel chair and shoved his hands
in his pockets. The room they were
in was small and littered with scraps
of paper, for they had left the city
room and sought one of the smaller,
private rooms where they could have
quiet. On the battered desk lay a copy
of the evening paper, just off the press
an hour before. Noble glanced at it.
“At least we know one thing,” he vol-
unteered. “That crazy ad doesn’t have
anything to do with the case. Who-
ever is running it mailed his money in
for another month just this morning.
If it was he that had abducted Merl,
he’d probably let it slide for a while.”

Steve’s dark eyes fastened on the
paper with sudden interest, as though
he were seeing it for the first time. His
forehead, already cobwebbed with fine
lines from long hours of sleeplessness
and distraction, creased more deeply as
an idea took hold of him. His fingers
shoved through his thick hair. Sudden-
ly he blurted, “My God, Tom! I’d
forgotten about that thing. Why — why
couldn’t it be the answ^er? Probably
he’d keep on using the ad just to throw
off suspicion.”

“What does he care about suspi-
cion?” Noble countered. “He’s got a
fool-proof system that even the best
investigators at headquarters haven’t
been able to dent. We’ve even had a
couple of our own boys on it. If I’m
any judge, Steve, it’s nothing more than
a means of communicating some secret
message from one par^y to another. A
code, more’n likely.”

“But two years!” Steve exclaimed.
“It w'ouldn’t take two years to get the
message across. No, I’m convinced
there’s really something back of it.
Something I don’t even like to think
about.” He got up and walked thought-
fully to the window. His eyes took in
glumly the glittering night picture be-
low him that was New York. Down

there people were crowding the streets
in a search for amusement. And up
here in the Herald office misery and anx-
iety blotted out all thoughts of pleasure
and happiness.

Tom Noble’s voice came gently to
him as he stood there. “Give the idea
up, Steve, I’ve seen so many of these
cases, though never so close to home,
that I can almost call my shots before
the stories are broken. And I’d take
an oath on it that that half-baked classi-
fied has no more to do with it than
an ad for Dr. Whoosit's Idttle Liver
Pills. And besides — ^there’s nothing
more you can do to break it than what
the police have tried. There’s simply
no place to start.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he
agreed. “We can’t do anything but sit
and wait. And keep on printing news
that doesn’t mean anything. And all
the time we’re doing it Merl is some-
where suffering or ”

Noble got up heavily as the boy
broke off. “Take it easy, Steve,” he
advised. “Thinking along that line will
just make things worse. All we can
do is wait and be ready to act the
minute any news comes in. But in the
meantime, I’ve got to get some sleep.
You stay here, if you like. If anything
happens, you’ll be right here to know
about it.” He went to the door and
took his hat off the hook beside it. In
a moment the door closed behind him.

Hardly had Steve got settled in the
chair after Noble left, when the shrill
warning note of the telephone shattered
the stillne.ss. He jumped as his trigger-
like nerves were jarred. So startled w^as
he that the phone rang a second time
before he could pick up the receiver.
Frowning at the unexpected call, for
calls were never taken in the ante-rooms
unless the operator relayed them there,
he picked up the desk set and said,
“Yeah?”

142

AMAZING STORIES

“Steve I” a voice said excitedly. “Is
that you, Steve?”

la a fl^-sh Steve Mallory was on the
edge of the chair, gripping the receiver
with a hand that trembled. The voice
was that of Merl Blair!

CHAPTER IV
The Beautiful Hag

poR a long moment Steve couldn’t
speak. He seemed frozen rigid with
the unexpectedness of it. Tlien he
cried, “Merl! For Lord^s sake what’s
happened? Where are you, and — why
haven’t you let me know?”

The voice at the other end sounded
weak and uncertain. “I don’t know,
Steve. I can’t remember anything,
most of the time, and then all of a
sudden I remember being on an oper-
ating table, or being picked up on the
street.”

“But where are you?” Mallory
pleaded anxiously.

“I don’t know that, even. It looks
like some sort of sanitarium, or some-
thing. But — Steve, there’s something
wroog with me! Some horrible thing
has happened to me!”

The strength seemed to flow out of
Steve-s body, then. All the fears he
had entertained for the last two days
seemed justified. Before he could
sp^k, the girl went on dazedly,

“My face looks just the same in the
mirror, but — but my body is like an old
woman’s! It’s wrinkled, and stooped,

and pouchy Oh, Steve, you’ve got

to come and get me! ”

Steve’s knuckles whitened on the
receiver. “What number is written on
your telephone?” he asked tensely.

There was a pause while the girl
looked it up. The boy’s whole body
trembling as he waited, for that
number would Qiean that he ha(^ found

the way to her. He held his breath,
anxious to catch her words. Then,
after a moment, a puzzled look came
into his eyes. ^‘Merl! ” he said quickly.
“Can’t you find it?”

“Whom did you want, young man?”
a different voice cut in. “There is no
one by that name at this address. This
is the Van Gogh residence.”

Mallory was stunned. The voice
sounded like Meri’s, and yet it was dif-
ferent. It sounded rather hu.sky, and
more than a little imperious. “Merl—
what’s happened?” he cried.

“I have told you that no one by the
name of ‘Merl’ resides here,” the re-
ceiver crackled. “Apparently you have
the wrong number.” There was a sharp
click — ^and the line was dead.

Disbelief held Steve in a cold grip
for a moment. Then he rattled the re-
ceiver up and dawn and shouted, “Oper-
ator! Trace that call. This is Steve
Mallory of the Evening Herald. I was
speaking to Merl Blair and was cut
off.”

The operator responded quickly. Al-
though strict rules prohibited the trac-
ing of calls for anyone but a police
officer, the names of Steve Mallory and
Merl Blair were as good as a badge
number at this moment, for every man
and woman in New York knew of the
girl’s disappearance.

Soon her voice came back to him:
“The call was from Parkway 23S4, at
Dr. Eric Sturvison’s Rest Home on
Long Island, near Bridgehampton.”

TT TOOK Steve Mallory just five min-

utes to leave the office, find his car,
get a patrolman from a street copner,
and head for Long Island. The car
flashed through traffic dangerously, cut-
ting through holes scarcely large enough
for motorcycles, skidding around cor-
ners, skipping stop signals. Patrolman
Murphy sat on the edge of his seat,

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

his big hands gripping the upholstery,
his eyes bugging out at the narrow es-
capes.

When they had reached the compara-
tively open stretches of Long Island,
he relaxed a little. But not for an
instant did Steve let up. His body was
tense and keyed-up, his face chiseled
into sharp lines of determination.

Murphy got his breath long enough
to ask a few questions. All he had
known when Steve picked him up was
that he was Steve Mallory of the Her-
ald, and that he was very much in the
news right now, as the fiance of the
missing girl. Now he queried him
about his theory regarding the girl’s
disappearance.

Steve told him curtly what he feared.
He saw a strange look come into Mur-
phy’s face as he asked, “You mean this
bird’s been — sort of swapping heads
around?”

Mallory nodded, said, “I’m not crazy,
if that’s what you’re thinking. Sturvi-
son’s just the man to try something like
this. Probably you’ve forgotten, but
just five years ago the mescal board
took away his license, for trying to do
things that left rather a bad taste in
their ethical mouths. Besides that, he
was mixed up with the disappearance
of a young man who never showed up
again. Krishner, I think his name was.
They suspected him of experimenting
on the boy, but nothing ever came of it.”

“GoshI” Murphy commented, star-
ing at him. His first fear that the re-
porter was crazy had been swallowed
up in another fear — the dread of the
unknown. The things Steve had hinted
at were sufficient to give him an icy
chill in his stomach.

gTURVISON’S Rest Home was in
an isolated district of low, rocky
knolls and scattered clumps of trees,
dipped in black shadows now beneath

U;}

the moonless sky. Something in the
very homeliness of the lighted windows
of the gaunt, gray stone structure whis-
pered danger. Steve tooled the car
swiftly up the long, winding drive
through lines of rustling trees, the head-
lights casting long fingers of light over
the rough ground. Against the black
sky the gray building loomed blockily,
spires of an earlier architecture thrust-
ing up sharply.

The gravel crunched loudly beneath
the tires as Mallory ground to a stop.
In a flash he had sprung out and was
rounding the car. For just a frac-
tion of a second he paused to glance up
at the sanitarium before he had passed
out of the beam of the headlights. His
body stiffened at the shadow that came
and went on the curtain of an upstairs
window. The figure was the stooped,
disheveled one of an aged woman.

In the next moment he had dashed
up the steps behind Murphy and was
ringing the doorbell furiously. Present-
ly there came the sound of shuffling
footfalls, and then a little window in the
door was opened. A craggy, stupid face
showed in the aperature. Murphy’s
flashlight stabbed through the square
entrance, spilling a dazzling beam in the
man’s face.

“What you want?” the man asked
slowly.

“We want in, brother — and quick!”
Murphy growled.

The pale eyes showed fear as they
shifted from one man to the other, try-
ing to make out their faces through
the dazzling light. Suddenly he raised
his hand to slam the window shut.

But Murphy was ready for the move.
The blue barrel of a Police Positive
shoved through the window squarely in
the man’s face. “Now open up,” he
snapped, “before this thing goes off.”

After a second there was the grating
of a lock, and the door inched inward.

144

AMAZING STORIES

Steve shoved thcough brusquely. His
eyes swept the interior of the p]^ce, not-
ing IliQ andent oak paueKng, the high
ceiling, the antiquated furmture. But
above the ^oom somewhere there was
the blaming of powerful electric mo-
tors, binfJng at things that were mod-
ern— and dangerous.

“Where is she?” Mallory asked
tensely, seizing the man by the shirt
front.

“I show you,” the gigantic assistant
replied after a pause, looking down at
the reporter, whom he could have felled
with a single blow. He turned and
shuffled off to a flight of stairs that led
off to the right.

Side by side, Mallory and the officer
followed him. Not for a second did the
revolver waver from its line on the
man’s back- At the top of the stairs
they were led down a short haU to the
left. The giant stopped before a door
and knocked.

A man’s voice- came through the door
almost immediately. “Who was it,
Krishner?”

Mallory growled, before the man
coifld ent^r, “Tell him it was somebody
that v^s lost.”

KrMjser echoed stupidly, “Some-
body was lost. Gone now.”

“Gqod.I” the man’s voice came back.
“I was — a little afraid, for a minute.”
The door swung open to reveal a large,
brna^-shcmldered man in a white sur-
geon’s spiock. He was holding a small
metal disk m Ws hand, toying nervously
with it. Abruptly, an oath slipped
throu^ his lips as he saw the urnformed
figure of Murphy. “You damned fool,
Krishner)'^^ he gasped. “You said ”

His words were cut off in his throat
as Steve Mallory’s fist smashed into his
face. The big reporter came through
the dopr close behind him as he fell to
the floor. He reached down and
scooped him up by the collar. “Where

is she, you butcher?” he choked. “What
have ypu done tp her?”

Be. Sturvison% green eyes shuttled
bac^ and forth from officer to reporter,
trying to discern just how much they
knew. His face became pale, except
where Steve’s knuckles had brought
a red bruise out on his cheek-bone.
Suchlenly he whirled at the sound of a
step at his left.. From the little supply
alcove across the laboratory stepped an
old woman^but on her shoulders was
the head of a lovely young girl !

a flash, Steve Mallory had sprung

to her side, and was gripping her
hands. He recoiled as the cold, wrin-
kled flesh came in contact with his
palms. Merl stiffened and took a step
backwards. “I don’t believe I know

you, Mr, ?” Her dark blue eyes

searched his face.

“‘Merl!” Steve gasped. “What’s
happened to you? Don’t you remem-
ber me?”

There was no trace of recognition in
her faoe.

Suddenly the boy turned and walked
back to the trio standing by the door.
‘Kjive me the gun, Murphy,” he
breathed. “I’m going to blast this
butcher where he belongs. I’m going
to send him straight to hell, where he
can begin paying for the things he’s
done.” He was trembling and white,
and his voice .shook.

“If you weren’t so blind,” Sturvison
said quietly, “you realize what

you will do by killing me.” Only the
twitching of hi.s right eye (fenoted the
struggle for mastery that was taking
place within him.

Mallory stopped with his hand ex-
tended for the revolver. A taut silence
built up between them. Krishner still
stood quietly watching the proceedings.
Murphy’s face was rock-hard and emo-
tionless. Sturvison eyed the young re-

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

145

porter steadily.

Again he spoke. “You would like to
see your financ^e returned to normal,
wouldn’t you? Very well, it can be
done. By me — and by no one else ! ”

Steve blinked. His face, dark with
fury, showed only bewilderment for a
moment. Then, like ice breaking up
in a spring stream, the meaning of Stur-
vison’s words came to him. New hope
sprang up in him with a surge that made
him tremble. By Sturvison’s own ad-
mission, the girl could have her own
lovely body restored to her! Scarcely
able to control his emotion, he snapped,
“Then do it, for Lord’s sake! And if
you're trying some kind of trick on us,
we’ll butcher you worse than any of
your patients ever were!”

Sturvison smiled bleakly as he
turned. “There is no need for threats,”
he told him, “However, not even
threats will make me perform the oper-
ation without your promise on one
thing. I must be released as soon as
the operation is finished!”

Steve hesitated for just a second.
Then he nodded, “All right. But
whether you get caught later or not
doesn’t enter into it.”

“I’m not worrying about that,” the
scientist smiled. He turned and strode
across the floor towards the big, metal
door across from them. He shot an
order at Krishner, and the giant sham-
bled into the sub-floor operating room
to prepare the instruments.

While they waited, the two men
looked the place over incredulously.
The gruesome scene in the alcove filled
with bowls and bell-jars made both of
them a little shaky. Steve avoided
looking at the girl who was wandering
aimlessly about. It was more than he
could stand to see the ghastly thing that
had been done.

Sturvison emerged from the small
room in a moment, carrying a tray on

which was the sheet-draped body of a
woman. Mallory’s heart struck one
wild beat at the sight. The scientist
hurried into the operating chartiber and
laid the body on one of the tables. He
pulled the sheet down to expose the
head of a hag! Steve was horrified —
until he recalled that the old woman’s
head was fixed to the torso of a young

girl-

Krishner, at Sturvison’s command,
moved away to bring the Van Gogh
woman into the room. While he was
occupied with this duty, the scientist
laid out masks, instruments, and other
paraphernalia. Steve was surprised to
see no antiseptics or any sign of cura-
tive agents. “Isn’t there an awful
chance of infection?” he asked hur-
riedly. “An operation like that must
take days to heal.”

Sturvison shook his head. “The
antisepsis I use is a gas,” he explained.
“And as far as healing is concerned—
it takes place in a matter of minutes.
The stupid plan of dressing a wound
and letting nature take its course is
what has made surgery such a dan-
gerous necessity, but I have found a
way around it. Using as a basis the
fact that radium has remarkable cura-
tive powers, I developed my own cura-
tive. Placed about the wound in the
form of tape, it hastens coagulation and
the formation of serum. These two
factors, of course, are the primary
considerations in healing. Thus, with
the usual three days exudation of serum
taking place in ten seconds, the rest
of the process is finished very quickly.”

A DISTURBING thought filtered
into Steve’s mind. Why wouldn’t
Merl’s mind still be almost blank after
the operation? Could the mere trans-
ferring of a head from one body to the
other cause the mind to be altered? Al-
most afraid of the answer he might

146

AMAZING STORIES

receive, he asked tensely, “But how
will her mind ever become normal
again? Isn’t she under some halluci-
nation?”

The scientist looked up from his
lashing the bodies to the tables. He
shot a glance at the lumbering form of
Krishner. “You will have Krishner to
thank for her being entirely normal
when operation is finished,” he re-
sponded. “He is hardly the finished
workman my work requires of as-
sistants. Kxishner, tg be quite frank, is
one of Qiy earlier failures. He is an
excellent imitator, ordinarily, but on
this occasion he slipped. Unless the
subject's brain is completely deadened
at the time of the transfer, the mind
remains unaltered. However, if the
anaesthetic — radio-chloride, in this in-
stance — is imperfectly administered,
the mind retains all its former mem-
ories. This is where Krishner failed.
He administered a dilute solution of the
anaesthetic. The girl was almost nor-
mal when she came out of it. The little
metal disk I was holding when you came
in was part of my plan to remedy that
situation. Only hypnotism is effective
after the operation. My attempts so
far have been only partially successful.”

He broke off now and handed the
assistant a mask. In silence they
donned them. Anaesthetics were ad-
mini^ered, the dosage given to the girl
being a very slight one. Steve found
himself becoming more tense every
second, frightened by a hundred fears.
Was Sturvison r«illy telling them the
truth? Or was this a plan of his to
trick them? Another consideration
galled him. The price of Merl’s safety
was turning this unscruplous surgeon
loose on the world again, to subject
other young girls to the same brutal
treatment. The boy’s heart and mind
waged a bitter fight while he waited for
the men in the room below to com-

mence the work.

At last the thick glass shield was
slipped into place. Immediately, the
hissing of escaping gas came to the ears
of the watchers. Green billows of semi-
transparent vapor swept through the
small room, making the figures below
indistinct, moving shapes.

Murphy’s breathing became audible
to Steve, as it rasped through set teeth.
His own mouth was dry as cotton, his
eyes wide in fearful anticipation. Alone
in the big room, they crouched at the
edge of the pit and stared down at a
scene only the two men below them had
ever witnessed before.

Then, over the hissing of the gas, a
sharp order reached their ears: "Now!^*

CHAPTER V
Back from Death

CTEVE flinched, looked away in sud-
den horror. He found he could not
watch what might result in a ghastly
surgical nightmare. The very thought
of a knife slicing cruelly through Merl’s
neck caused him to shudder.

Through the thick glass came the
sound of a sharp click, as of a spring
being released. There was the brief
hum of a motor — and then silence. The
reporter and the cop stood in tense sil-
ence, waiting — for what? Life, and
sanity, for a young girl, who meant
more to Steve than life itself? Or a
horrible death, or still worse — the living
death of insanity? A few seconds’ wait
would tell them.

Soon the green fog began to thin. The
cloud of vapor became a thinning veil
between watchers and operating tables.
Then, as powerful fans drew the last
of the antiseptic gas from the chamber,
the scene was revealed 1

A glad cry escaped Steve’s lips. Merl
Blair lay on the table exactly as though

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

147

she were sleeping, her face relaxed in
sleep that was not the endless sleep she
had so nearly escaped. Her face was
flushed with blood pumping through
her cheeks, her lips parted to expose
white teeth. Beneath the coverings
over her body, her breasts rose and fell
regularly. The effects of artificially in-
duced suspended animation had worn
off completely.

Only a thin red line on the girl’s
throat denoted the operation that had
taken place. And even as they watched,
Sturyison bound a wide strip of yellow
tape about it.

On the other table lay the wrinkled
body of an old woman. Her face was
pouchy and toothless, the eyes closed.
The wealthy old crone had had the
beauty she sought for two days, and
now, by a justice that had caught up
with her, she was again the hag that
long years had made her.

The scientist and his helper took off
the gas masks. Krishner slid the glass
shield back and went up the stairs.
Sturvison paused, before ascending, to
take some papers from a shelf in the
wall. Then he came up from the oper-
ating room to the two men who waited.

Murphy still stood looking in amaze-
ment down at the girl. Steve looked
white and shaky, too, as though he had
come through a terrific ordeal. Stur-
vison stood for a moment smiling at
them, contemptuously. His right eye
twitched nervously.

In the next moment, without any
warning, he sprang forward. His left
hand smashed into the side of Krish-
ner’s head as he dived at Murphy. The
giant uttered a single, piercing shriek as
he toppled over the edge of the pit.
Steve’s startled eyes caught a glimpse
of him as he struck the floor with a
thud.

An oath crowded the cop’s lips. He
fell back as the surprise rush carried

him off his feet and jumped him on the
floor. The gun skittered off across the
cement.

In a flash Sturvison had swept it up
and swung it on the two men. “You
are very trusting,” he taunted. ^‘If you
thought I trusted you a? much as you
did me, you were mistaken. I knew
I would have no chance of leaving here
alone. Nor will you leave, to expose
me and end my work!”

A wave of anger shook Mallory. He
took one step towards the scientist and
clenched his fists in impotent rage.
“You won’t get far!” he raged. “They’ll
trap you somehow. They can trace
that phone call and find you.”

“But when they get here,” Sturvison
snarled, “there will be no bodies, nor
any other traces to convict me. After
the investigation, I will simply move
somewhere ebe and continue my work.”
His greenish eyes mocked the boy’s
anger.

Murphy was muttering in self-con-
demnation and bitter regrets. “1 mighta
known a half-baked scientist like you
would try somethin’ funny,” he ground
out savagely. “If I could get hold o’
that gun for one second ”

'^HE big cop broke off angrily. But it
was not entirely anger that caused
the torrent of words to dry up. For
at that moment both he and Steve Mal-
lory noticed something crawling up
from the operating room. Their eyes
widened at the sight of the bloody, hulk-
ing figure of Krishner. A mad light
gleamed in his eyes, and his hands
clenched and unclenched.

Sturvison stopped short, looked at
the two men. His shrewd brain read
danger in their faces. Some warning
sound whirled him about. In a flash
he saw his position. “Krishner!” he
shouted. “Go back in the pit! Go
back, or I’ll shoot you I”

148

AMAZING STORIES

The giant’s face twisted in sullen fury
as he wiped a big paw across his bloody
mouth. He mumbled something unin-
telligible, and came on. His Tong arms
hung limply, but the blocky shoulders
testified to their gorilla-like power.

“Go back!” the scientist warned
again. “One step more and I’ll kill
you!”

Krishner’s lips formed a harsh, mock-
ing laugh. Without a pause, he sham-
bled on.

The gun in Sturvison’s hand crashed
once. Krishner jerked as the bullet
smashed into his shoulder. A ragged
hole appeared in the white smock, and
red began to widen slowly about it.
But his shambling pace was not
stopped. He continued on, his arms
raised now to seize the scientist.

Sturvison’s face blanched as he
squeezed the trigger twice. The gun
leaped in his hand as lead sped into
Krishner’s stomach. A cry of agony
came from the assistant but he showed
no other effect of the bullets’ power.
Suddenly he broke into an awkward
run and charged at him. Sturvison
seemed to shrink down as he gripped
the gun and emptied it, in three final
blasts of gun-fire, into the body of the
giant.

He shrieked as Krishner grabbed him
in a vicious hug. The gun beat futilely
against the helper’s head, bringing a
torrent of blood down the man’s face
but only serving to enrage him still
further.

Krishner’s big hands sought his
throat. With an animal growl, he held
the creator of his ill-formed being out
at arm’s length and shook him as a
cat shakes a mouse. The scientist dan-
gled loosely. His face went blue from
the vise-like grip that was choking the
life from him, and his eyes bugged out
horribly. And still the giant continued
to squeeze harder and harder. His fin-

gers dug into the soft throat until they
had all but disappeared in folds of
flesh.

Suddenly the big hands relaxed.
Krishner twisted about to look at the
two men who stood stock-still watching
the drama. After a moment he slid
to the floor. Sturvison’s body fell
across him, his neck broken. His own
monster, that he had created to enslave
other helpless men and women, had
caused his downfall.

Steve and Murphy stared for a long
five seconds at the huddled shapes on
the floor before they moved. Then the
cop muttered, “What a cop that guy
woulda made! A slug didn’t faze him
any more’n a pea-shooter would.”

But Steve was staring at the papers
clutched in his right hand, which he
had taken from the shelf in the pit.
“The secret of his process,” he mur-
mured. “He was probably going to
destroy them and deprive humanity of
a blessing that might never have been
discovered again. His own greed made
a horror out of the secret that could
have saved countless lives if he had
given it to science. Krishner will never
know, poor, stupid monster that he was,
what he did for others as pitiful as he.”

For a moment longer he stared at
them, and then he shook off the spell
and went hurriedly down the steps into
the operating room. Merl was looking
about dazedly when he bent over her.
Her eyes fastened on him in terror —
and then they softened and a film of
tears came over them.

“Steve!” she whispered, in the voice
he had grown to love. “What — what
happened, Steve? I remember a man
talking to me on the street, and
then — then it all seems a blank.”

Relief made Steve Mallory’s knees
shaky as he heard the girl’s voice. His
eyes were on the strip of tape about her
throat. Beneath it, he knew, the miracle

MASTER OF THE LIVING DEAD

149

was taking place that had given her
back to him. After a moment he said,
“Let’s just say that nothing has bap-
pengd, dear. All that matters now is

that you’re all right — an4 that tomor-
row night at eight we’re ^oing to take up
right where we left off the other day!”
The End

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ISLAND OF
ETERNAL STORM

By BERKELEY UVINGSTON

A weird red cloud hung on
the horizon— beyond it was an
island as alien as infinity!

rr-

P ROFESSOR HUGH LATIMER
sat in the small lounge of the Sao
PaulQ. He was covertly watching
the very interesting couple who were
engaged in a low-voiced, nearvous con-
versation. The sofa on which the two
sat was too far removed from Latimer
for him to hear what was being said.
But the girl’s beautiful mobile features
served as a perfect mirror for her
thoughts. At the moment she was lis-
tening with absorbed attention to what-
ever her partner was saying.

Hugh Latimer had been aboard the
Sao Paulo when the two had come on

board, in Rio de Janeiro. His curiosnV
had been aroused at sight of the tall,
ash-blonde beauty of the girl, in the
company of such a man as Carl B.rem-
ner, who was a sinister looking charac-
ter. Grayish brown hair, close chopped.
Thick neck with flesh always hanging
in a fold over his shirt collar. Clones
a little too tight-fitting. And his
voice: curt, emotionless, yet domineer-
ing.

The captain of the Sao Paulo had in-
troduced them during their first dinner,
as Mr. Carl Bremner of New York City
and Miss Virginia Darnell of the same

The submarine headed straight for the red wall of destruction

P ROFESSOR HUGH LATIMER
sat in the small lounge of the Sao
Paulo. He was covertly watching
the very interesting couple who were
engaged in a low-voiced, nesrvous con-
versation. The sofa on which the two
sat was too far removed from Latimer
for him to hear what was being said.
But the girl’s beautiful mobile features
served as a perfect mirror for her
thoughts. At the moment she was lis-
tening with absorbed attention to what-
ever her partner was saying.

Hugh Latimer had been aboard the
Sao Paulo when the two had come on

board, in Rio de Janeiro. His curiosity
had been aroused at sight of the tall,
ash-blonde beauty of the girl, ki the
company of such a man as Carl Brem-
ner, who was a sinister looking charac-
ter. Grayish brown hair, close capped.
Thick neck with flesh always hanging
in a fold over his shirt collar. CLoAies
a little too tight-fitting. And his
voice: curt, emotionless, yet domineer-
ing.

The captain of the Sao Paulo had in-
troduced them during their first dinner,
as Mr. Carl Bremner of New York City
and Miss Virginia Darnell of the same

The submarine headed straight tor the red wall of destruction

152

AMAZING STORIES

address. Bremner’s pale blue eyes had
flicked their gaze over Latimer in a
lightning appraisal,, before he had ac-
knowledged the introduction with a
cold, curt, “a pleasure, Professor Lati-
mer.”

Virginia Darnell’s low voice, but
pleasant, '‘I am happy to meet you,
Professor Latimer,” sent a strange feel-
ing through him.

And that was all. For three days
and nights the Sao Paulo plowed
through the South Pacific. At night
the freighter’s ports were closed so that
no light would show its presence to an
enemy submarine.

Not once during those days and
nights had Latimer been able to break
through the wall of mystery which sur-
rounded the strange pair.

Walking around the freighter’s deck
was the only exercise to be had. Often
Latimer had come across the girl lean-
ing over a rail, an expression of sad-
ness etched on her face and in her eyes.
But at his approach she would walk
away or deliberately turn her back to
him.

Of one thing, however, Latimer was
sure. That she was very much afraid
of Bremner. It was evident in her
eyes, her voice and in the very way she
stood when she talked to him. As
though she were at bay.

On this, the fourth, night Latimer
had come into the lounge for a cool
drink before taking bis last stroll
around the deck. A few minutes later
Virginia Darnell and Bremner had
come in deep in discussion. Virginia
iiad been objecting to something Brem-
ner wanted.

Latimer watched. Suddenly Brem-
ner lost his temper over something the
girl said.

His voice, loud and harsh, carried
clearly to Latimer’s ears, as he said, “I
want to hear no more of this! I have

told you what to do when we arrive
and I expect you to do iti ”

Latimer didn’t remember getting out
of his chair. He was conscious only of
the intense blue of the girl's startled
eyes as he stood before the couple on
the sofa.

'‘Yes?” asked Bremner. The single
word was cold and impersonal.

“Look, Miss Darnell,” Latimer be-
gan, paying no attention to Bremner,
“you don’t have to do anything! I
don’t know what kind of a bill of goods
he’s trying to sell you, or what he~”

Bremner cut in coldly. “Perhaps it
would be best if you minded your own
business, Professor Latimer.”

“This has become my business.”

A sneer twisted the deeply lined face
of Carl Bremner.

“So our Miss Darnell has acquired a
Sir Galahad!”

Latimer found himself suddenly
quivering with anger. He wanted more
than anything else to send his fist
crashing against that sneering face.

Bremner said, “Come my dear, per-
haps we will find more privacy on the
deck.” The girl bowed her head in a
humble gesture and arose to leave.

Latimer looked in helpless frustra-
tion at the door as it closed behind
them. Turning on his heel he made
his way toward the after-deck, where
the superstructure of the bridge would
cut the headwind. He remained there
for a half hour, letting the night air
cool his anger.

SINGLE sailor stood watch on the
fantail. Latimer could see his
youthful figure silhouetted in the bril-
liant rays of a full tropic moon. Of the
two he had come to find, he could see
nothing. But as he reached the short
ladder which led up to the after-deck,
he heard Bremner’s domineering voice
say, “You fool, have you forgotten

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

153

about your brother? Remember: if
you do not do as I say, he shall pay for
your disobedience; pay with his life!”

“No Carl, no! Til do anything you
ask! Anythingl” she pleaded. “Only
please see that no harm comes to him.”

Latimer’s feet barely touched the
rungs as he flew up the ladder. Vir-
ginia and Bremner were facing each
other in the shelter of one of the two
lifeboats on the deck.

Bremner was twisting one of her
wrists. “Then we understand each
other, my dear. And we shall have no
more of this talk about not wanting to
do things.”

She cried out in agony, “Don’t Carl,
you’re hurting me! Please.”

Latimer reached Bremner in three
quick strides. His left hand twisted
him about while his right came up in
a short powerful punch which ended on
Bremner’s mouth. The blow did not
knock him down, but it did send him
reeling back against the rail. Latimer
did not wait for him to recover. He
leaped in and sent two more blows
crashing against the dazed man’s face.
Bremner slid off the rail and fell on the
deck. But Latimer was not quite
through. He reached down and lifted
him erect, back against the rail. Words
thick with rage, came through Lati-
mer’s lips. “I’m going to beat you to
a pulp, right now, with my bare hands.”

Through the blinding fog of his rage
he could feel Virginia’s hands tugging
at him. Her voice, brit*^le with panic,
made him release the half*conscious
Bremner. “Please, stop it! You’ll kill
him and that’s no good for either of us.
Please stop.”

Latimer turned to the girl tugging at
his arms, opened his mouth to speak.

“Tor-pe-do!”

The hoarse voice of the sailor on
watch came like an alarm siren.

They could not see the feathery sil-

vered wake as the torpedo streaked
toward the slow-moving ship. They
only heard it strike!

A gigantic roar, followed by a searing
sheet of orange flame marked the end
of the torpedo’s trail. The Sao Paulo
shuddered through its entire frame. Its
superstructure careened drunkenly for
a minute, then, with a terrifying swift-
ness the whole foredeck, bridge and all,
broke away from the rest of the vessel
and sank beneath the boiling waters.

The terrific concussion of the explo-
sion sent the four who were on the after-
deck flying off their feet. Sotnehow,
Latimer got hold of the girl, cushioned
her fall with his body.

Q uickly Latimer pulled her erect.

The sailor had scrambled to one
of the lifeboats. He was now pulling
himself upright. Bremner too, was on
his feet, swaying from side to side.

Latimer leaped forward to the sailor
who was calling. “Quick, help me get
this lifeboat down!”

Latimer and Bremner helped the
sailor make loose the ropes which bound
the boat to the davits and then three
men and the girl scrambled aboard.
They hit the water. No other survi-
vors were visible. They rowed a short
distance away from the distintegrating
freighter. Then that part which had
remained afloat lurched once and sank
also. They barely escaped from the
suction its sinking created.

Latimer took instant command of the
lifeboat.

“You there,” he said to the youtiiful
and white-faced sailor in the oil-stained
work clothes. “What’s your name?”

“Benjy Shore, sir,” the young fellow
answered, “engine room helper, first
class. I was transferred to a hitch at
lookout.”

Latimer found time to smile at the
sailor’s unsolicited remark on his qual-

AMAZING STORIES

ifications. He also realized that here
was someone he could depend on.

“All right, son,” Latimer continued,
“you want to get out of this, don’t
you?”

“Yes, sir,” said Benjy.

“Then follow my orders to the let-
ter. And keep remembering, I’m tak-
ing the place of the captain.”

The boy nodded his head in agree-
ment with Latirner.

“Your first orders are to see how we
stand on food and water. Investigate
the boat’s locker for sails and compass.
Perhaps you may find some maps. Now
hop to it.”

Obedience had left its mark on Benjy
and Latimer had used the right tone in
giving his orders. The boy instantly
went about fulfilling them.

Virginia shared Latimer’s seat. Ex-
cept for a last look at the spot where
the ship had gone down, she sat lean-
ing against his shoulder, her eyes tight-
ly closed.

It was Bremner who gave Latimer a
surprise. Silently and efficiently he
pulled on the oars. Nor did he question
Latimer’s taking charge of their tiny
vessel.

Benjy Shore crawled out from under
the last seat in the stern. He rolled a
small cask before him while in one hand
he carried a small square box. Latimer
lifted the small cask and shook it.

“We’ll have enough water,” he an-
nounced. “Now" to see what’s in this
box.” The contents proved to be ship’s
biscuits.

“Food and drink. What else did you
find, Benjy?” he asked.

“That’s all, sir. I felt all around but
I couldn’t find anything else.”

Latimer was silent for a while, lost
in thought. He knew the nearest land
was at least five hundred miles distant.
Although the Sao Paulo had been on a
well traveled route, the possibility was

against the tiny lifeboat being seen.

At last he broke his silence by speak-
ing to Bremner, “Any ideas or sugges-
tions, Bremner?”

But the silent man at the oars held
his thoughts to himself.

“Very well then. Here’s what we’ll
do. Row at night. Rest during the
day. I’ll allot all food and drink. It
looks pretty bad right now,” he said in
conclusion, “bat the chances are that
we’ll be picked up. So let’s make the
best of it.”

Now that the terror of the torpedoing
was over for Benjy, he proved to be a
cheerful sort.

“You’re right, sir. I heard the engi-
neer say only this morning that the
route we travel was so busy they need
a traffic cop sometimes.”

Virginia smiled at his cheerful sally.

'Y'HE rest of the night passed in sil-
ence broken only by the creak of
the oars in the oarlocks, as the three
men rowed steadily.

It was on the fourth day after the
sinking that Bremner Benjy called La-
timer’s attention to the strange looking
cloud.

Latimer looked out to where Benjy
was excitedly pointing. He could see it
hanging low on the horizon; the strang-
est looking cloud he had ever seen. Of a
peculiar reddish cast, it looked like a
curtain of mist shot through with pur-
plish lights.

“I’ve never seen anything like it be-
fore,” he said worriedly. “I only hope
it’s not a storm. We’ve been lucky so
far.”

But he noticed an even stranger
thing. A current was developing in the
water. And the boats prow had slowly
pivoted in the direction of the cloud.
Soon they all noticed the definite accel-
eration of speed.

Latimer’s eyes grew wide in concern.

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

155

“That current is pulling us toward
that cloud area,” he said.

The boat was now leaping forward,
as though eager to get to its goal. Soon
they were so close they could make out
that it was not a cloud at all. It was a
curtain of red dust which hung suspend-
ed to the very water’s edge. And stran-
ger still, the dust gave off a not un-
pleasant odor as they moved within the
curtain.

Now the boat lost some of its speed,
but the prow was still pointed in a
definite direction. They all noticed that
the water, reddish colored as the dust
above it, was calm, without even the
smallest of a wave to disturb its sur-
face. The boat went on for several
miles and as suddenly as it had entered
the curtain, it emerged into an area of
turbulence such as they had never seen.
It was a maelstrom of sound and fury.
Mountainous waves flung themselves in
thunderous assault against a barrier of
saw-toothed rocks. A demoniac wind
had arisen and howled and tore about
their ears.

Benjy took one look at the scene of
horror, then with a howl of terror threw
himself face downward in the boat. He
pressed his hands over his ears trying
to shut out the frightening noises of the
elements. Bremner cowered down in
his seat, his eyes frantically searching
for an escape.

Strangest enough, the girl, who
should have been the most frightened
of the four, showed the least fear. Lati-
mer saw the paleness of her face, but
felt a thrill of admiration as he noticed
the tight set of her jaw.

Now the boat entered the maelstrom.
The water lashed and tore at it. The
mad wind howled down on its occu-
pants, as though to tear them from their
seats. Nearer and neiarer to the niur-
derous rocks it came. A gigantic wave,
spitting white froth in its madness, lift-

ed the boat and sent it crashing down
against the reef.

Latimer saw Bremner flung high in
the air, screaming and turning as he fell.
A giant hand seemed to reach down and
pluck Virginia from his grasp. Unen-
durable agony came as needle sharp
rocks tore at his flesh. He heard and
felt the bones of his arms and legs snap.
His last conscious remembrance was
of the heavy prow of the lifeboat crush-
ing down on the golden head of Vir-
ginia, who was pinned against a rock.

TJUGH LATIMER opened heavy-
^ lidded eyes. Dull pain beat at his
brain and slowly subsided. He became
aware of the sound of water swishing
against a shore. A breeze, sweetly cloy-
ing with some strange odor, ruffled his

dark hair.

His eyes, beginning to focus at last,
took in the unsullied azure blue of the
sky. The pale green color of fern fronds
set against the darker, lusher greens
of jungle growth caught his attention.
He turned his head to see better. Then
memory, like a stab of pain, returned
to Hugh Latimer.

Memory: of that horror scene; of
lashing waters; of hungry rocks, like
shark’s teeth, waiting for their prey;
and of Virginia being dashed to her
death.

Horrified, he sat erect and felt no
pain in doing so. Something clicked in
his mind. His own body being gashed
and torn by the rocks; yet he felt no
pain. He fell to examining his hands.
What he saw was unbelievable. The
muscles, tendons and bones beneath
their sheath of outer skin were writhing
and twisting back into their normal
places. Yet he felt no pain. It was as
though some cosmic anaesthesia held
him in its grip; pejmBting him to see
the' miracle being perforrhed; with^ld-
ing the pain. The flesh, which had been

156

AMAZING STORIES

torn and Jacerated, was healing and
growing together before his very eyes.
He looked down at his right leg. It had
been twisted around in an impossible
manner. It, too, like his hands, was as-
suming its natural position.

Before him lay a placid stretch of
water, several hundred feet wide. Be-
yond, acting as a sort of breakwater,
was the reef. He could see the spray
from the churning waves breaking over
it. Past the reef was the immense cur-
tain of red dust.

“Mr. Latimer, Mr. Latimer!’^

Latimer jerked his head around in a
startled gesture. Benjy Shore was com-
ing toward him on a slow wavering run.

Latimer scrambled erect and ran for-
ward to meet him.

“Gee, Mr. Latimer, am I glad to see
you!” Benjy gasped.

“And I can say the same for you,”
LaUmer replied, “but where are — ?”

He didn’t complete the question.
The look of misery which had spread
over the boy’s face was answer enough.

“I don’t know, sir,”' Benjy said halt-
ingly. “I guess I was knocked out or
sometiung. When I came to, I was lay-
ing back there on the beach and the
funniest tbihg was going on. It was like
I was being put together. But I couldn’t
feel anything.”

“Yes, I know,” Latimer interrupted.
“The same thing happened to me. But
are you sure you didn’t see Miss Dar-
nell or Bremner?”

“No, sir,” Benjy answered. “Neither
hide nor hair of either one,”

It was with the greatest effort that
Latimer was able to control himself. He
had grown to like the girl the first time
he had seen her. Those nights in the
lifeboat had been a revdation to him.
She had brought water to each of the
men at the oars. It was then that she
haid toM him of the association of Brem-
ner and herself.

He could still hear her voice saying:
“I was acting in a show in New York.
One night I came home and found
Bremner waiting for me. He told me
who he was — a Gestapo agent — and
what he wanted of me. He wanted me
to come to Dakar with him, where I
would be introduced to several French
officials. I refused! He laughed and
told me that I would do it or else my
brother would die. And he showed me
a clipping from a newspaper. My broth-
er, a flier with the R. A. F. had been
shot down in Germany. They found
my picture on him when they picked
him up. And Bremner had traced me
to New York. He told me that my
brother would die, if I didn’t do their
bidding. But before they killed him,
Brenner told me of the torture he would
go through. It was too much for me. I
gave in to his demands.”

Latimer would never forget the half-
defined terror in her voice as she told
her tale.

Benjy,” he said at last, “it
looks like the two of us will have
to see what% what around here.”

“Yah! But say, Mr, Latimer,”
Benjy questioned, “tell me something?
How come we don’t hear the sound of
the surf breaking on that reef? We’re
only a couple of hundred feet off?”

That was one of the things bothering
Latimer also. The almost uncanny si-
lence of his strange place.

“I don’t know, Benjy,” he replied
hesitantly, “But I’m sure there’s an
explanation. Right now though, we’d
better get to looking for some shelter.”

Latimer noticed that his shirt and
trousers were dry. So he had been lying
on the beach for at least an botfr before
consciousness had returned. He was
thankful for that. Tropic nights Could
be chilly. And already twiight w^s fall-
ing. A strange, red-colored twiliglit, the

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

157

product of the red curtain of dust.

“Come on Benjy,” he said leading the
way down the beach, “there’s no sense
in just standing around like this. We’re
probably on some island, which should
mean friendly natives. At least I’ve
never heard of unfriendly ones in this
part of the world.”

“Okay Mr. Latimer,” the boy said re-
signedly, “but I sure would like to know
how I healed up so fast; and how
come — ”

The moon had come up and gave
them light enough to see by as they
made their way along the shore.

They walked on in silence for the
better part of several hours. Latimer
had fallen into a brown study as they
walked along and so had not noticed
that Benjy was several hundred feet
ahead of him.

He w^as startled and dismayed to hear
Benjy’s sudden scream of “Help! Mr.
Latimer, quick! ” Ahead of him he could
see the furiously flailing arms of the
boy. He w^as struggling desperately
with two almost naked natives.

Latimer leaped to his rescue — and
was neatly tripped, and sent tumbling
to the ground. He had not seen the
fibre rope which had been carefully
stretched across the sand. He only felt
the weight of several bodies press him
down and hold him as hands bound his
wrists together.

Arms pulled him savagely erect again.
He saw Benjy still twisting angrily
about, in the grasp of tht two natives.
His hands, like Latimer’s, were tied be-
hind his back.

For the first time Latimer had a good
look at his captors. What he saw, he
didn’t like. Not the least bit! There
were a half dozen of them. Big strap-
ping bucks, wearing only a lava-lava.
Bone handled knives were stuck in the
waistband of their lava-lavas. But it
was the dull animal look in their faces

which sent Latimer’s pulses racing with
uneasiness. Or perhaps it was their
eyes, entirely blank of any emotion,
which seemed so unearthly.

Not satisfied with tying their cap-
tives’ hands, they also tide their legs at
the ankles. Two men picked up each
of their captives and at a slow dog trot
made off tow^ard the jungle.

"Y^^HEN they arrived at the first line
of jungle giants, Latimer and
Benjy were unceremoniously dumped
to the ground. Now two of the men
climbed what appeared to be a ladder
set into the bole of the tree. Within a
few seconds a rope came coiling down
to the rest waiting below. The rope was
secured under Latimer’s arms and he
was jerked upward finally to be pulled
onto a platform set in the crotch of a
large branch. The rope was removed
from under his arms and let down again.
Within a few seconds, Benjy was lying
beside him.

The rest of the natives came scram-
bling up the ladder and when the last
appeared, Latimer and Benjy w^ere
again lifted to the sweaty backs of their
captors. And then to the complete mys-
tification of the two white men, the en-
tire party broke into that slow dog trot
again.

“What the hell are they running on?”
was Latimer’s amazed thought. He
twisted his head over as far as it could
go and his startled eyes saw that the
natives were running on a marvelously
woven carpet of vines or small
branches. Not only that, but he could
tell by the evenness of their strides that
this carpet was as level as a concrete
sidewalk. And all this was taking place
without the aid of any light; for the
moon’s rays did not penetrate through
the upper reaches of the trees.

From up ahead, Benjy’s voice floated
back to him. “Hey, Professor, what the

158

AMAZING STORIES

heck are they running on? Air!”

He also heard the sound of a slap
and then Benjy’s fluent cursing of the
slapper. Latimer had to grin in spite
of the spreading discomfort and pain
his jouhcing body was beginning to
feel.

He grunted out a ‘'Hey, take it easy
Bud,” as one of his carriers decided to
shift his weight in mid-stride — and felt
his jaws go slack as an answer came
back*—- in English. “Keep your mouth
closed, white man!”

His thoughts ran riot. “What sort
of place is this> where the natives speak
English? And go flitting around like
birds in the trees? I got one answer.
Maybe I’ll get another.”

Aloud he asked gaspingly, “Where
are you taking us to?”

He waited for several seconds for a
reply and recdving none, asked again,
“Damn it, where are you taking us
to?”

One of the several who were running
beside them, hearing Latimer call out
again, reached over and cuffed him
against the side of his jaw, and said,
“You were told to shut up.”

Now it was Benjy’s turn to laugh at
the cursing of Latimer. The rest of the
journey was made in a silence broken
only by the heavy breathing of the
running men.

J^ATIMER became aware of the
lights at the same time the natives
did. They began to quicken their pace.
Soon they arrived at a break in the
trees. Here Latimer and Benjy were put
down and again the rope was placed
under th^’^r arms. They were lowered
to the hard packed ground and the
bonds around their ankles removed.

Latimer and Be^jy were pulljed
efed;^and promptly Cpn^^d. The
combination of thongs and uncomfort-
able positions had almost completely

stopped their circulation. But their
captors did not see the humor of the
situation. They were yanked upright
once again and pushed stumblingly
forward.

Ahead of them, Latimer saw where
the light came from. Three large camp
fires shed a bright glow over a clearing
toward which they were being driven.
A half dozen grtiss-thaiched huts were
set in a small semi-circle behind the
fires.

Latimer saw three figures step out
in front of the largest of the fires. The
two larger figures seemed to be holding
the smaller between them. He could
only see their dark silhouettes against
the flames.

As the three came closer, Latimer
and Benjy’s captors held them up-
right, so that the approaching figures
could see who they were.

For a second Latimer thought that
he was going mad. That figure in the
middle, stumbling forward with hair
streaming down over her face couldn’t
be V’irginia. No! Virginia was dead;
back there on the reef. But now they
were so close that Latimer was able
to see that it was her. And to make
certain that Latimer recognized her;
Bremner — for Latimer saw now he was
the shorter of the two men — took hold
of her long blonde hair and jerked her
head back.

So sudden was Latimer’s dive in
Bremner’s direction he almost tore
loose from the two men holding him.
But not quite. At sight of this^ the red-
bearded giant who was on the girl’s
other side let out a huge bellow of
laughter. Not at Latimer’s %tion, but
at the frightened retreat of Bremner.

The enraged Gestapo man leaped
upon thp defenseless Latimer and ham-
mered him with his club-like fists, Lat-
imer’s mouth and nose gushed £i;irtt5,on
under the pounding of Bremner’s fists.

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

159

He tried to evade the punches, but the
guards held him tightly. A red mist
swam before his eyes. His ears caught
the sound of Virginia’s screams and the
gargantuan laughter of Red-beard. And
a merciful blackness closed down over
his senses.

LTE BECAME conscious to the sound
of a voice cursing. Benjy had lost
none of his fluency in that respect. He
opened his eyes and took, in his sur-
roundings. He was lying on the hard-
packed earth which served as a floor
for the grass hut. A fire burned redly
in an iron brazier in one corner of the
hut. He felt a wet cloth gently brushing
his bruised and cut skin. He turned his
body, and the pain in his side made him
go sick to his stomach.

Virginia was kneeling beside him. A
pan of water was on the ground near
her.

He winced as she applied another
wet cloth.

‘‘Here, Benjy,” he said to the young
sailor who was angrily pacing back and
forth past his head, “give me a hand
up, will you?”

Latimer stood erect, swaying a little.
His face felt as though it had gone
through a clothes wringer and his side
ached.

“What did Bremner do after knock-
ing me out? Give me the boot?” he
asked.

“Yeah!” Benjy said wrathfully. “He
give you the boot! But he made sure
those guys were holding you good be-
fore he did. And if it hadn’t been for
Miss Virginia here, he’d’a probably
kicked your head in.”

“If it hadn’t been for Virginia? What
do you mean?” Latimer asked.

Benjy’s voice held admiration as he
explained, “Why, when she saw what
that dirty — what that rat was gonna
do, she jerked away from that red-

bearded lug and jumped the Nazi. He
just gave you the boot once and she was
on him like a wildcat. Old Red-beard
came running up and broke them. But
not before the rat clipped her once.”

“Clipped her!” Latimer’s voice held
such a depth of anger, Benjy backed
away from him in startled surprise.

“Sure he did. Look at her jaw.”

The girl had turned her back to
them. Latimer gently pulled her around
and saw the swollen area against the
warm brown of her skin. It was already
turning yellow.

Benjy cleared his throat and voiced
the question which was bothering Lat-
imer also.

“What happens next? How do we
blow outa this joint?”

“I don’t know, Benjy,” Latimer said,
“looks like we’ll have to hold a sort of
council of war, right here.

“First: Virginia, suppose you tell us
how you got here. And who Mr. Red-
beard is?”

“ JT WAS the strangest thing,” the girl

began, her eyes frowning, “but
when I first opened my eyes, I thought
I was dead. Everything was so peace-
ful and quiet. The only sound I could
hear was that of the water moving softly
and the calls of birds. I looked up and
saw that red mist, but when I sat up,
I felt a terrible pain at the back of my
head. I must have fainted then, because
the next thing I knew I was being car-
ried by two natives through the trees.
When we got here, I saw that Bremner
was with us also. But neither you nor
Benjy was there. I won’t tell you how
I felt or what I thought.” She stopped
for a moment to gather the threads of
her story together again.

“We were brought to the central hut
and that terrible red-bearded man came
out. I heard Bremner call out in a sur-
prised voice. ‘Von Schultz’. Von Schultz

160

AMAZING STORIES

walked over to him and after looking
at him for a minute recognized him. It
seems that this Von Schultz command-
ed a U-boat in the last war, and was
reported sunk. Bremner was some sort
of army officer then and they knew
each other.

“Bremner called him aside and they
whispered together for a while. What-
ever Von Schultz was telling him was
not to his liking because I could see his
ugly red face go palel. Von Schultz
thought it was very funny though, be-
cause he kept laughing all through their
talk. Finally Von Schultz called over
several of the natives and gave them
instructions. Later I was tpld that they
were to fiind you two and bring you
here.

“I was brought to this hut and kept
under guard while Bremner went off
with Von Schultz. Then later the two
of them came here and brought me out
and I saw you and Benjy and oh, I’m
so afraid! There is something horrible
going on with this Von Schultz. He
frightens me more than Bremner ever
did. And these natives. They act like
they’re not quite alive.”

“Easy now, honey,” Latimer cau-
tioned, as he heard hysteria rise in her
voice. “That isn’t going to help. Keep
your chin up. We’ll make out.”

“Sure, Miss Virginia,” Benjy added
his bit to the conversation, “the pro-
fessor here’ll figure out the angles.
We’re a cinch to dudt this joint.”

The girl laughed aloud at Benjy’s
figure of speech. And when she asked,
“Do you Ifnow, Mr. Latimer, that it’s
still a mystery to me what you’re a pro-
fessor of,” there was a bright note of
unaccustomed gaiety in her voice.

Latimer looked startled at her ques-
tion.

“pogE r^rd,” ^6 his

forehhy^'^tfi.,hi 9 'free Ha’'nE, “pf course.
Well allow me then to present myself.

formally.” He burlesqued a cavalier-
like bow and said, “Hugh Latimer, Pro-
fessor of Botany, on leave from Cran-
dall University, at your service, Mad-
ame Darnell and Messieur Shore.’ ’

A ripple of laughter from the three
broke the tension under which they had
been, since their capture. But at the
sound of Von Schultz’s bull-like bellow,
they all turned quiclcly, to face his giant
figure standing hugely within the
doorway.

“So,” he shouted, “you are all happy
to be together. That is good! I like
laughter and gaiety. These natives,
pah! They are good only for work. But
forgive me! It is so seldom that I can
play host to white men and women.
You are hungry?”

He looked questioningly at them
and when he saw Benjy licking dry lips,
his huge laughter rang out on their
startled ears. Lathner’s keen eyes had
been making a careful appraisal of Von
Schultz, all the while he had been talk-
ing. He saw a huge mountain of a man,
at least four inches over six feet, weigh-
ing well over two-hundred and fifty
pounds. Naked to the waist, his great
chest, wet with sweat, rippled with
muscles. And every time he let loose
with that great shout of lailghter, his
belly shook and tumbled in time to it.
Latimer also saw that his beard had
been dyed with some kind of vegetable
dye.

But it was on Von Schultz’s eyes that
Latimer’s searching look rested longest.
Narrow set, they hung under dark
crags of thick bfeck hair. And despite
his jovigJ laugh, there was something
disquieting, even sinister, in their un-
waveriog black intensity.

“I dori’t trust you-,” Latimer thought,
“nor your act of b6ilig a good §aipari-
tan. Y^Ye got apipe p'Urppse b^ind
your welcoming gestures and I’m going
slow till I find if out.”

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

161

■VTON SCHULTZ thrust his head out
of the doorway and they heard him
bellowing some sort of orders. Then he
turned back to his guests.

“Sit down,” he commanded, “sit
down, my friends. Soon there will be
food and drink. And I can see Professor
Latimer is bursting with questions he
wants to ask me.” And suiting the ac-
tion to the words, he lowered himself
to the ground, folded his trunk-like legs
under him.

The three seated themselves again.
And Latimer asked with some surprise,
“How did you know my name?” He
did not wait for the other’s reply. He
knew the answer. “Of course. Bremner!
I suppose you know all there is to know
about us.”

“No, not all,” Von Schultz said
enigmatically, “but enough: yes —
enough.”

“Well,” said Latimer, “since you are
so willing to answer my questions, let’s
start with an easy one. Where are we?”

“The natives call this island Tanoa.
Where it is I do not know, because the
red mist surrounds it on all sides. Nor
have I ever seen it on any chart or
map.”

Latimer puzzled over Von Schultz’s
answer. It had, as a matter of fact, an-
swered nothing.

“That red mist. How did it ever form
and just what is it?” he asked, and
hoped the answer to this would be more
enlightening than the other.

“That red mist?” Von Schultz re-
peated Latimer’s question. “I can only
tell you the legend the stupid natives
told me about it. That once, long ago,
a flaming star fell upon the island. It
brought the mist with it; a sort of man-
tle, they said. The mantle stayed, out
beyond the reef. They also tell that
when the star struck, it sent out a red
dust, and wherever the dust landed the
red lotus bloomed. The red lotus

bloomed,” he said again, and his voice
rumbled deep within him, his eyes blaz-
ing beneath their thick eyebrows. “My
lovely red lotus flowers.”

“Red lotus?” asked Latimer. “There
are no such blooms; at least to my
knowledge.”

“Perhaps not to your knowledge,”
returned the other, “but on Tanoa, all
lotus are red. And tomorrow I shall
take you to my castle, beyond the hill.
There you will see them And smell
them too, if the wind is right.”

Latimer felt a hidden meaning in
Von Schultz’s words. But before he
could ask what he meant, a half-dozen
native women came in, each bearing a
large wooden platter. Silently they came
in and placed their platters before the
seated group and, as silently, left the
diners to serve themselves.

Nor did the three need an invitation
to begin. The water and biscuit fare of
the lifeboat had left aching hollows
where their stomachs had once been.
They attended very thoroughly to the
chicken, roast young pig and fruits
which filled the platters.

WON SCHULTZ laughed as he ate.

He devoured his food with a huge
chomping, grunting and sweating over
his work. Benjy’s eyes grew round with
wonder as he watched him tear a quar-
ter from a chicken, stuff it into his
mouth, and chew it down; pausing only
long enough to spit the bones to one
side.

Latimer and the others waited for
Von Schultz to finish. When he did, he
wiped his mouth on his hairy forearms,
groaned, then said, “Well, that was
good. Is there something else you want
to know?”

“Yes,” Latimer said coldly. “I want
to know the truth. Not this — this pop-
pycock you’ve been telling us about
falling stars, red lotus and castles.”

162

AMAZING STORIES

Von Schultz looked into his angry
face and rocked back and forth with
laughter

“Oh,” he said, wiping his eyes, “it
will do me good to have you around,
Professor! You find it incredible, don’t
you? But there it is, you know. The red
mist, the red flower, and tomorrow, I
promise you, my castle.”

With that he arose to his feet. Lati-
mer, also rose and walked over to him
until they stood only inches apart.

“Before you go, Von Schultz, one
more question. What do you intend to
do with us?”

Von Schultz looked down at him for
a silent few seconds, then said, “Tomor-
row, you’ll know,” and turned to leave.

Latimer swung him around before he
had taken a single step.

“Not tomorrow, right now” he de-
manded ’

Von Schultz no longer looked jovial.
He looked, instead, like a monstrous en-
gine of destruction as he glowered down
at Latimer.

“Perhaps put you to work — with the
rest of my slaves,” he said, and placing
his huge hand against Latimer, shoved.

Latimer was sent sprawling back-
ward, to come to rest against a wall of
the hut. Before he could recover, Von
Schultz was gone.

A long whistle of awe came from
Benjy. “It’s a good thing he didn’t slug
you, Professor. He’d’a put you right
through the wall.”

Latimer got up. “It looks like we’ll
have to use brains not brawn, against
Mr. Red-beard.” He began to feel his
jaw and mouth, wincing slightly as he
touched tender parts. The pain in his
side had subsided, but it still ached a
little.

“I’ll say this, though,” he added, “I
haven’t taken so much punishment since
college football. And I’m not going to
take much more.”

He noticed the tired lines in Vir-
ginia’s face. And saw, too, that Benjy
was beginning to droop

“Time to turn in, folks,” he an-
nounced. “Might as well get as much
rest as we can.”

He dragged out a quantity of ferns
lying in a corner of the hut and ar-
ranged a bed for the girl. He threw his
jacket over her to keep her warm. Then
he and Benjy lay down and fell into a
deep and sound sleep.

A WOMAN’S soft voice awakened
him. “The Master is waiting,” she
had said. Latimer stretched and was
glad to note that his side was all right.
But his mouth and jaws still ached. A
puzzled frown appeared on his face.
And the certainty of a thought which
had been troubling him grew more real
now.

Virginia was sitting up in her bed of
ferns, a pout disturbing her lips with-
out distracting from their loveliness.

“I wish I had a comb with me,” she
said.

Latimer smiled and vmlked over to
awaken Benjy. The native woman,
whose voice had awakened him started
out of the hut saying, “The Master
awaits your coming.”

Von Schultz and Bremner were
standing in front of a group of at least
fifty natives. Von Schultz stepped for-
ward to meet the three as they came
out. Latimer saw that he was in good
humor again. Bremner, however, ap-
peared nervous, even frightened. He
could see a muscle twitch in the Nazi’s
face.

“Good morning, my friends,” Von
Schultz’s booming voice greeted them,
“I hope you slept well.”

The red beard parted in a grin to
disclose yellow uneven teeth.

“We will not have breakfast, because
in a few hours we will be at the castle.

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

163

I am anxious to show you the wonders
of Tanoa. You, Professor, and Miss
Darnell will ride with me.”

Linking arms with the girl and Lat-
imer, he marched off. The ranks of na-
tives opened for his passing, and fol-
lowed as he set out for the trees. In-
stead of the ladders which Latimer ex-
pected, Von Schultz took them to an
incline which led up to the middle ter-
race. Here a dozen men were waiting
with litters. Latimer felt a twinge of
pity for the two carriers who hoisted
Von Schultz’s massive frame within his
litter to their shoulders. Virginia and
he stepped into their litters and, at a
signal, the bearers started off on a run.
Latimer looked back to see Benjy and
Bremner being carried in Utters not far
behind them.

So wide was this unusual tree-high-
way that the bearers were able to carry
them abreast. Latimer was only waiting
for an opening to begin his questioning
again. Only this time he resolved to be
more diplomatic, so as not to arouse
Von Schultz’s anger again. He had not
long to wait.

Von Schultz had been staring at Vir-
ginia in open mouthed admiration. He
heaved a windy sigh, and said intro-
spectively, “It will be good to see and
hear a white woman again. Twenty-
seven years is a long time to be away
from civilization. Only now do I real-
ize what I have missed.”

“You’ve been here twenty-seven
years?” asked Latimer.

“Yes,” replied the other.

“How did you find this place?”

Latimer felt the desire to talk in
Von Schultz’s voice.

“I didn’t find it,” Von Schultz said
cryptically. “It found me! Let me tell
you my story, Professor, and you also,
Miss Darnell. It will help to pass the
time and perhaps answer certain ques-
tions in the professor’s mind.

“T WAS in command of a German
submarine in 1917. On a certain
night we spotted a freighter and after
following for a while, got close enough
to send a torpedo into it. It wasn’t
enough, though, and I had to drive
another nail in that coffin. But before
it sank, their wireless operator was able
to send out an S.O.S. Several destroyers
arrived on the scene and somehow
picked up my trail.

“The first I knew of them was the
concussions of depth charges around
me. I was cruising in eight fathoms of
water at the time and immediately or-
dered a crash dive, down to fifteen
fathoms. Those depth charges killed
four men in the torpedo compartment
and five in the engine room. Remember
that. Professor. That those men were
killed then, not later.”

He paused for a moment to let the
last statement sink in, then went on,
“I set the controls at cruising speed
and stayed at that depth for several
hours. I went into the compartments to
see what had happened and saw the
dead men there. Just as I came back to
my post, I felt the nose of the subma-
rine go downward and the speed of the
boat sharply increase,

“From that second on we went
through hell. It seemed as though the
ship was in the grip of some terrible
magnet. It was twisted and spun about
as though it was a match. And under-
stand this, that although a hurricane
can be raging directly above you, at fif-
teen fathoms there is only the smallest
of disturbances.

“Inside the submarine the dead and
the living were thrown around like dice
in a box. I was thrown against a pipe
which had been broken in two, with
my throat striking against the razor-
sharp edge of the broken piece. My
last remembrance was of the blood
gushing from my torn throat, filling my

164

AMAZING STORIES

mouth, and pouring out like a fountain.

“When I came to, we were resting in
the calm waters inside the reef. And
when I stepped up on the deck, my en-
tire crew, do you understand; my en-
tire crew, followed me”

Latimer felt his throat open and
close convulsively as Von Schultz fin-
ished his tale. His mouth felt as though
all the saliva had dried up; and his
voice was hoarse with a strain as he
said, “But you said that nine men
were—” he could not finish. There was
no need to. He knew Von Schultz was
telling the truth. The same thing had
happened to himself. To Virginia,
Benjy, Bremner —

They had died, yet they were alive.
Didn’t they breathe, talk, feel and
think as they had before? Except for
the amazing episode of the healing flesh,
there had been no material changes in
their bodies. Von Schultz had aged
normally in the years of his stay on the
island. Therefore, it was plain that al-
though one could die, he could live to
die again.

He was becoming dizzy from these
mad speculations. Another thought
crossed his mind, to add to his wor-
ries. Did Virginia understand the full
impact of Von Schultz’s story? He
leaned over to look beyond the huge
bulk of the red-bearded one’s torso.
Virginia was staring at Von Schultz
with a doubting look.

Latimer could see that she didn’t be-
lieve Von Schultz. She shook her head
slowly from side to side like a mar-
ionette on a string, as though to clear
it of some terrible thought. Then she
leaned back and lay staring broodingly
ahead.

There was something brutally callous
in the look Von Schultz bent on her
relaxed body before he turned to face
Latimer again. But neither Latimer nor
the girl saw that look.

'y'ON SCHULTZ resumed where he
left off in his story.

“I could see a line of natives on the
beach. They were on their knees with
their faces pressed against the sand.
To them, we were gods, arisen from the
sea. It was evident they had never seen
a white man before. And if they had,
never ones who arrived in a submarine.
We stepped ashore and they brought
us gifts of fruit. Their chief, Mawtaw,
bade us welcome; in fluent German.”

Latimer broke in with a startled ex-
clamation, “German! Then they speak
German and English too!”

Von Schultz laughed, but silently this
time. Only his shaking body showed it.

“Yes. I was surprised to hear my
mother tongue spilled from their heath-
en mouths. But when I asked old Maw-
taw where they had learned the lan-
guage, he said, ‘German, you call it?
There is only one tongue spoken on
Tanoa. It is the language of the dead!’

“One of my men could speak Spanish.
I commanded him to address the chief
in that language. And when he spoke
I understood what Mawtaw meant. Be-
cause I, who knew no Spanish, under-
stood every word that same from his
mouth. You see, on Tanoa, all languages
are one. The language of the dead.”

“I see,” muttered Latimer. But he
didn’t see.

A vagrant breeze came through the
trees, bringing with it a remembered
odor. And with every step the bearers
took, the odor became heavier and more
cloying.

Latimer was reminded of his return-
ing to life on the beach. That breeze
which he had felt was thick with this
fragrance. The very air seemed alive
with it now, and he had the strangest
notion that it was entering into every
pore of his body. His mind felt a weari-
ness, which was curiously peaceful, de-
scend on it.

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

165

Von Schultz looked closely at Lati-
mer. He, too, noticed the odor but, pe-
culiarly, was unaffected by it.

“Ahl” he said, “the wind is bringing
to us the fragrance of the red lotus. A
most delightful odor, is it not, Pro-
fessor?”

“Huh?” asked Latimer, stupidly.

“I said, do you smell the fragrance
of the red lotus?” replied Von Schultz.

“Yes — I — can — smell — it —
now,” Latimer said, slowly pausing be-
tween words. It was a most peculiar
feeling that possessed him. That he was
being hypnotized by the scent of the
tlowers. Being hypnotized by the lotus.
The phrase rang a warning bell in his
mind. He exerted dominance over his
mind by a fierce effoh of his will. He
would not be hypnotized by either man
or flower. And his eyes cleared of the
mists which had arisen to cloud them.

Von Schultz saw the light of reason
return to Latimer. He shrugged impa-
tiently, but the wolfish grin still re-
mained on his face. The grin which had
appeared when he saw how the odor
of the flow’er had first affected Latimer.

“It is a peculiar virtue of my red
lotus,” Von Schultz stated, “that it can,
through its overpowering odor alone,
produce a state bordering on hypnosis.
For instance, no birds sing where it
blooms. Yet they fly to and sit upon
its branches. You will find the shrub
to be of great interest, Professor.”

“I am sure I will,” replied Latimer
aloud. But to himself, be said, “Yes, and
I will also find what makes it so inter-
esting to you, that you call them your
red lotus.”

jl^ATIMER noticed that the trees
were thinning out. At last there
were no more trees and they came out
into a sort of shallow valley. His eyes
grew bright with astonishment at what
he saw.

To his right, ascending in a long,
gradual slope, was a large hill. The
upper quarter of this hill seemed to
blaze with red color.

“The red lotus,” Von Schultz com-
mented, seeing Latimer’s stare.

To his left, Latimer saw a shorter,
but steeper hill. Shaped like an up-
turned bread loaf, its top had been
sheared level. It looked very much like
an Arizona mesa, with its eroded, bar-
ren appearance. Perched on its top, he
saw, was a strange looking stone edifice.
It looked very much like a stone prison.
Long, narrow openings in the stone sur-
face of its three stories seemed to be
windows. But the sun threw back no
reflections from any glass in the embra-
sures.

“And that, I presume, is your cas-
tle,” Latimer said.

“Yes, that is my castle,” replied Von
Schultz.

“Unlovely sort of place, isn’t it?”

“That depends on your ideas of beau -
ty, Professor,” the other returned.

“I’m sorry if I can’t think of a
dungeon being beautiful,” Latimer
ironically replied.

They remained silent while their
bearers, who had evidently been in-
structed to do so, ran up the long steep
incline which led to the castle’s en-
trance.

As soon as the litters were placed
on the ground, Latimer hastened to Vir-
ginia and helped her up. He was dis-
turbed to see her in an obvious state
of shock. Her eyes were listless and
her movements mechanical. She seemed
to find trouble in standing erect. Lati-
mer put his arm around her and when
Von Schultz came over, said, “We’d
better get Miss Darnell to bed. I’m
afraid your story was a little too much
for her, coupled with what she’s gone
through.”

Von Schultz said, “Bring her in. It is

1G6

AMAZING STORIES

the lotus fragrance. ITl have a couple
of native women take care of her. SheTl
be all right in a few hours.”

Latimer lifted her limp figure in his
arms and followed Von Schultz through
the stone entrance of his castle. Vir-
ginia’s mouth and chin rested warmly
against his throat. He almost dropped
her — when her lips whispered against
his ear, “Careful, Fm just acting a part.
Watch Von Schultz. He’s got some-
thing up his sleeve.”

He was able to control himself as he
continued to follow Von Schultz through
a large square-shaped room and up a
curving stone staircase. They arrived
at what apparently was a bedroom, for
in it was an excellent specimen of na-
tive handicraft, an imitation of a four
poster bed. It was made from thin
saplings, a thick pile of ferns lay on a
closely woven vine spring. Latimer
laid the lax figure of the girl on it.

Von Schultz stepped to one of the
two narrow windows. He called Lati-
mer over and pointed to something
below, saying, “There it is, Professor.
My submarine, lying at its eternal an-
chorage.”

T ATIMER looked down the sheer
face of the house and cliff. Just
below him he could see a shallow har-
bor, several hundred feet long. A small
submarine rested on the water’s sur-
face. He could also see a small break in
the reef, just wide enough for the sub-
marine to get through. But the water
came through this break with the ex-
press train speed of a mill stream. The
bright sun, reflecting in a golden glow
on the still waters of the harbor, lent
a false impression of peace and security
to the scene.

Latimer commented on this.
“Strange,” he said, “but I haven’t seen
any clouds over this island.”

“Nor have I, in all the twenty-seven

years I have been here,” answered Von
Schultz. “Nor does it ever rain. Yet
things grow and flowers and trees look
eternally fresh and green. Something
in the atmosphere, set up by the red
mist, protects us from the elements, no
doubt.”

Von Schultz turned away from the
window with a sudden abrupt gesture.

“Come,” he said. “Bremner and your
young sailor friend are below now. I’ll
have the women bring food up here for
Miss Darnell.”

Latimer followed him down the stair-
case again and into the large square
room. Benjy and Bremner were seated
at a table which had been brought in.
He also saw that a number of natives
had come in and were ranged around
the walls in silent watchfulness.

“My faithful retainers,” Von Schultz
said ironically.

Benjy looked sick and frightened.
Bremner had evidently told him the
story of Von Schultz. And probably
elaborated on it. For that matter, Brem-
ner didn’t look like he was enjoying
the situation too well either.

Now that he was away from the girl,
Von Schultz broke into his usual loud
talk. His laugh boomed around the
room as they sat down.

“Cheer up, my friend,” he said to
Bremner, slapping him forcefully on his
back. “The world has not come to an
end for you. Life here may not hold all
that you’re accustomed to, but it has
its good points.”

“And speaking of life here,” Latimer
said, “what are your intentions as far
as we’re concerned.”

“All in good time. Professor Lati-
mer,” Von Schultz replied. “Right now,
food is what I want.”

Benjy shook his head in admiration
of the big man’s appetite.

Von Schultz clapped his hands and
women began arriving with platters of

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

167

chicken, pig and fruit. As far as Lati-
mer was concerned, they were the same
women who had waited on them the
night before. At least they appeared so
in the silence and mechanical motions
they went through.

Among the fruits, Latimer noticed a
peculiar looking, red colored one which
resembled a banana. Curiosity impelled
him to ask what it was.

“Oh that,” replied Von Schultz, “is
the fruit of the lotus. Try it. YouTl
find it’s delicious.”

Latimer bit into it and as Von Schultz
had said, it was delicious. Benjy and
Bremner also tried the lotus fruit. So
good was it that Latimer found himself
reaching for a second and then a third.

It was immediately after he swal-
lowed the third one that he began to
feel strangely. He pivoted his head to-
ward where Benjy and Bremner were
sitting; and noticed what a great effort
it took to do so. Both Benjy and Brem-
ner had stopped eating and were look-
ing empty-eyed before them.

“They look exactly like the natives
do with that far-away lost look in their
eyes,” was his thought. “I wondeT if
I look the same.”

'y/'ON SCHULTZ stood up now and
looked down at the three men sit-
ting so silently at the table. His laugh-
ter rang out loud and wild in the room.

“Now you know the secret of the
red lotus, Professor. You have tasted
of it and you, too, hav^e become my
slave. I promised you that I would put
you to work with them and I will. Get
up! All of you!”

Latimer tried with all of his will not
to obey. But he found himself erect,
just as Benjy and Bremner were. His
arms hung loose a his sides and he
seemed to bend a little at the knees.

Von Schultz looked gloatingly at
them for a few seconds, then said, “To-

day you will go into the village, and
work with the men gathering fruit. To-
morrow, I will put you to work— at
labor. Carrying stones up to my cas-
tle.”

He called over one of the natives
standing against the wall. “Take them
away,” he said, and sat down again
to finish his meal.

Three natives stepped forward and
each taking a white man under an arm,
led him out of the castle. They took
a well-traveled trail which wound
around for a distance about a mile and
came to an end in a large village. The
drug which the fruit contained had done
its work well. The three white men in
their walk and feelings were indistin-
guishable from the natives. But a small
part of Latimer’s brain still functioned.
It wasn’t large enough to command his
body to break the spell, but it did per-
mit Latimer to observe what went on.

It was a village, with about thirty
large huts set in a great circle around
an open space about a hundred yards in
diameter. Latimer noticed that it
seemed to be occupied only by women
and dogs. And even the dogs moved in
that same jerky abnormal way the hu-
mans did. One of the guards called to
a woman.

“Where is Lato?”

Her face was dull and animalish look-
ing. “In his hut,” she said.

“Call him out. I have three more here
to help pick the fruit.”

Without a word, she turned and
stepped into one of the huts. She reap-
peared in a moment followed by a little
old man. She went back to whatever she
had been doing when she was called.
The old man came over and the guard
told him, “Take them into the forest to
pick fruit. Tomorrow they will help
carry stones.”

The old man cackled in a wheezy
voice, “Oh, good. They look like they

168

AMAZING STORIES

were strong enough. Yes, they do look
that. Well, come along then,” he said
and started off into the forest.

The three men followed him in sin-
gle file as he picked his unerring way
through the tangled underbrush.
Thorns and sharp vines tore at them
but they felt no pain. Nor did they
make any attempt to wipe the blood
from the cuts which were inflicted on
them.

The path which the old man was fol-
lowing led upward toward that part of
the hill where the lotus bloomed. Soon
they came to the first cluster of shrubs,
which grew to a height of about eight
feet. The odor from the flowers was
overwhelming, but the three men were
strangely unaffected by it. In a few
minutes they arrived in a region where
the shrubs grew more profusely. They
seemed, in fact, to be the only vegeta-
tion that did grow here.

Latimer saw the sweat-shiny backs
of a number of men. They were all
picking fruit and placing the fruit in a
small basket on the ground before them.

The old man now took the three to
a number of small woven baskets lying
in a pile to one side.

“Each of you take one of these,” he
commanded, “and go to a tree. Pick un-
til the basket is full, then bring it back
and take another basket. I will tell you
when to stop. Go now to your pick-
ing.”

The three followed his directions,
like well-drilled robots. And each, bas-
ket under his arm, disappeared in search
of a shrub to pick from.

T ATIMER found himself before one
^ of the shrubs and reached up to
take hold of the fruit hanging just over
his head. A thousand needles seemed
to have exploded into his fingers. The
fruit was encased within a shell of
thorns so sharp that the pain from their

pricking penetrated through the hyp-
nosis he was under. Yet, so powerful
was the spell of the drag that he con-
tinued to pull at the red fruit until it
came loose from the thorns.

He didn’t know how many baskets
he filled. He only knew that he had
been commanded to pick until the old
man came back.

The sun disappeared behind the red
mist before the old man returned. He
called Latimer and the other two over
to him.

“Now fill those large baskets over
there with the fruit you picked and fol-
low me,”

The other pickers were already do-
ing what the old man told them to.
Soon a long line of men came shuffling
back to the village, each carrying his
large basket of fruit. The baskets were
placed in the center of the clearing and
the men disappeared into the huts.

Latimer, Benjy and Bremner were
given a smaller hut to sleep in. They
came in and sat on the hard-packed
ground, facing each other. But their
eyes were empty of recognition. They
simply sat and looked woodenly about
them. Soon a woman came in bringing
food. * They ate mechanically of what
lay on the platter. Strangely enough,
they seemed to relish most the banana-
looking fruit of the lotus. Finishing
their meal, they lay down on the ground
and fell into a deep and untroubled
sleep.

It was sometime in the night that
Latimer was awakened by the little dog.
He pushed its furry body away from
him. But the dog had evidently taken
a liking to him. For it came bounding
back, frisking about him in short leaps,
growling playfully as though it were a
game.

That part of Latimer’s brain which
had remained unimpaired, was franti-
cally sending a message. ‘‘Watch the

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

169

dog! Watch the dog! Watch the dog!'*
And at last he understood. He was
sweating with the strain of the effort
it took to concentrate on thinking even
a little. But at last he understood.

The dog was leaping about as all
normal dogs do. Yet Latimer had seen
the natives feed the dogs the fruit also.
Then how was it that the fruit did not
apect this particular dog?

J^ATIMER had to find out. He
reached out his hand and picked
up the pup. He stood up and walked
out in that stiff legged sway which they
all used, to where the fruit lay in the
basket. Reaching down he picked up
one of the fruit and with a free hand
forced it down the dog^s throat. Then
he placed the dog on the ground to see
what happened next.

The drug in the fruit had already
taken effect. For the dog had turned
and was walking toward the forest. And
now his gait was the same as all the
others had been. Latimer followed him.
The way led deep into the underbrush
for several hundred feet. Latimer’s face
was bleeding again from the new
scratches which the thorns gave.

But just ahead of him the dog had
stopped and was tearing at a short white
plant with his teeth. Whatever was in
the plant took effect almost immediate-
ly. The dog shook himself for a second,
then returned to Latimer. And he saw
that the dog was in a playful mood
again.

Latimer got down on his knees and
tore off some of the white blooms. He
didn’t hesitate in putting them in his
mouth. The flower gave off an acrid
smell, but he managed to swallow it. In
a few seconds life and reason returned
to his body and mind. He could think
clearly. His limbs obeyed the com-
mands of his brain again.

“Pup,” he said, thankfully, “if there

is a heaven for dogs, I hope you’ll get
there.”

He set to work looking for other
flowers like that which he had swal-
lowed. In a short while he had collected
enough to fill all his pockets. Then he
returned to their hut.

He awoke Benjy first. “Here,” he
commanded, “chew on this flower and
swallow it.” The boy did as he was told
and in a few seconds Latimer saw the
blank, wooden look disappear from his
eyes. It was the old Benjy who looked
wonderingly about him and asked,
“What happened, Professor? How did
I get here?”

Latimer told him what had happened
at Von Schultz’s castle. And in con-
clusion said, “Boy. We’ve got him
licked! These white flowers are an an-
tidote for the drug in the lotus fruit.
All we have to do is feed the natives
this flower to bring them out of their
trance. And the hold that Von Schultz
has over them will be broken. After I
give this to Bremner, we’ll start off with
the little old man.”

“You’re not going to give it to Brem-
ner, are you? Not after what he did
to you and Miss Virginia,” Benjy asked
in surprise.

“Yes I am. We’ll need every man.
Remember, Von Schultz still has at least
fifty men up there with him, all armed,”
Latimer answered.

He awakened Bremner and gave him
the antidote. It worked on him as it
had on Latimer and Benjy.

“Keep quiet and follow us. I’ll tell
you what to do,” Latimer commanded
him.

The three men stole softly into Lato’s
hut. The old man was sound asleep.
While Benjy and Bremner held him,
Latimer forced the old man to swallow
the white flower. And again the miracle
of the antidote took place.

“VTao are you?” the old man asked.

170

AMAZING STORIES

Latimer told him as much as was pos-
sible in a few sentences.

“You want to end the rule of this
cruel man, don’t you?” asked Latimer.

“Yes,” answered Lato. “He has
held us in his power for long years.
Tell me what to do and it will be done.”

“Here are these flowers,” Latimer
said. “Feed them to those whom you
want awakened first. Then bring them
here and I will show you where I found
these.”

'Y'HE old man took the flowers and
left quickly. In a few moments he
returned with a dozen men. They all
looked as though they had been awak-
ened from some deep and terrible
dream. But their eyes were bright with
life. And their movements were free
and alive.

“Command us, white man,” Lato
said. “We’re yours, to do with as you
wish.”

Latimer took them all to where he
had found the flowers and set them to
collecting as many as they could. They
used the little baskets to collect them
in and in a short while there were
enough to awaken every man in the
village.

‘iNow go and feed these to all the
rest and come to the compound in the
center of the village. There I will tell
you how we can overcome Von
Schultz,” Latimer told them.

The natives scattered to the various
huts, each carrying his little basket of
white flowers. It wasn’t until they had
all gone that Latimer noticed Bremner
had disappeared also.

“Where is Bremner?” he asked.

“Gee, I don’t know,” Benjy replied.
“He was here just a few minutes ago.”

But Latimer knew where Bremner
had gone. To tell Von Schultz of what
was taking place.

“Damn it, Benjy, you were right,”

Latimer swore. “I shouldn’t have
brought that double-crossing Nazi out
of it. Now we’ve lost the element of
surprise.”

“You mean we’re not going to get
Von Schultz, then?” Benjy asked in
disappointment.

“Oh yes. We’ll get him. And Brem-
ner too. But I’ll have to figure out a
different means from what I’d planned.”

His mind raced over what he re-
membered about the so-called castle.
He snapped his fingers in glee as he
rememl^red what it was that he had
seen. He knew how they were to gain
entrance. It was going to be risky, but
it could be done.

Already the first of the men were
beginning to arrive. Soon the village
compound was a boiling mass of angry
natives. Lato had given the antidote
not only to the men but also to the
women and even to the dogs.

The women were the bloodthirstiest.
It was their voices which were raised
loudest in cries of vengeance. But the
men, though silent for the most part,
were hot in anger. Latimer could see
by the light of a number of fires, which
had been set by the first women to ar-
rive, that their faces were set in de-
termination.

They were in a great circle about
him when Latimer raised his hand for
silence.

“People of Tanoa,” he cried in a
loud voice. They all fell silent as he be-
gan to speak. “I have set' you free from
your bondage. The power which the
red lotus has held over you is broken
for good. But Von Schultz, the man who
made use of that power for his own evil
purpose, still walks free.”

A confused shout of anger came from
the throats of the milling natives. Lato
stepped forward to face Latimer.

“Tell us, white man, what we must
do,” he said.

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

171

“■^^ERY well/' said Latimer. “Bring
three men whom you can trust
completely, to my hut. Have the rest
scatter and pick up whatever weapons
they can find. We’ll meet here in a few
minutes.”

“Now here is my plan,” Latimer be-
gan. “Von Schultz has about fifty men
with him. How many are there of us,
Lato?”

The old man turned to the three with
him and whispered to them for a sec-
ond. Then he said, “We are one hun-
dred and fifty, white man.”

“Good! That should be enough. The
road leading to the castle entrance is
about twenty feet across. To either side
there is a steep ravine. You, Lato, will
take the largest body of men with you
in a frontal attack on the road. Two of
you,” and Latimer pointed to two of
the men sitting beside Lato, “will take
twenty men each, and climb through
the underbrush of the ravine. Keep
well hidden until Lato begins his front-
al attack. Then fall upon Von Schultz
men from the sides. Now you,” he said
to last of the three, “will pick ten of the
youngest and strongest men you have.
I have a special task for them. That,
my friends, is my plan.”

Lato and the three with him nodded
their heads in satisfaction and agree-
ment and the parley broke up. Quickly
they set about on their appointed tasks
and soon they, with Latimer, Benjy and
Lato leading them, were on the march.
Only the women and dogs remained.

The dawn had sent its first grey light
into the darkness when they arrived in
the narrow village before the small
plateau. Latimer saw that Bremner had
done as he had suspected. Von Schultz
had been warned of their coming. Huge
bonfires had been lighted and all the
ground before them was bright in their
glow. Latimer saw a thin line of guards,
spears held in their hands, stretched

across the roadway leading to the
castle.

“Well, Lato,” he said. “There you
are. Do you think you can get
through?”

Lato smiled. “I,” he said, “am an old
man. Life holds little for me. But what
sweeter way of dying is there than in
fighting my enemy?”

With that he spread his men out and
began a cautious advance to get as close
as they could, before charging. Lato’s
lieutenants had already started up the
sides of the ravine.

Latimer waited for a minute, then
started off through the dense under-
brush, Benjy and the eleven others fol-
lowing close behind. In a short while the
brush thinned out and soon they found
themselves on the beach, below the rear
of the castle.

Now Benjy and the rest saw what
Latimer had in mind. Although the
plateau fell sheer, erosion had formed
depressions like narrow trenches. These
led to the very top of the plateau. And
Latimer had planned to use these
trenches as rungs in an earthen ladder
to mount to the castle. It was there, he
knew, that the real job commenced.

Benjy had been staring at the sub-
marine in the small harbor.

“Well I’ll be hanged,” he exclaimed,
“a German pig boat. And an old one
too. About a 1914 model I’d say.”

“How do you know so much about
submarines, Benjy?” Latimer asked.

“My father worked in a shipyard
that was making them. I went to work
there when I was seventeen. And the
first thing they did was show us one of
these babies. An old Dutchman took us
on board and explained the workings of
the valves and engines. I can even read
the dial markings. Do you know'. Pro-
fessor,” he said, “you can run one of
those things with a crew of three.”

“You can,” exclaimed Latimer, a wild

172

AMAZING STORIES

idea taking root in his mind.

“It’d be a cinch, boss,” Benjy
boasted.

Latimer smiled to himself. Then
dimly to his ears came the first sounds
of battle. It was the signal to begin the
ascent, of the plateau. They made short
work of it and soon they were looking
up at the more difficult business of the
castle wall.

T ATIMER noticed that the first em-
brasure in the wall was about thirty
feet up the face. But the castle had
been constructed of rough cut stones,
about two feet across. And the native
masons had permitted a little amount
of hangover to some of them. Just
enough for finger grips. It was a risky
business, but it could be done. It had
to be done !

Latimer led the way and saw that
Benjy was the very next one to follow.
It was a trying ordeal. Latimer’s fingers
were tender and sore from the cuts of
the needle-like thorns, but he forgot his
pain and weariness in the climb. He
knew if he fell it would be a sheer drop
of a hundred and fifty feet to the beach
below. Once, in the climb, one of his
hands slipped from a finger-hold and
he hung by the other until his feet found
security in a niche.

At last he came to the goal he sought,
the long, narrow open window, and
climbed through. One by one the rest
followed him. The room was empty
and Latimer led them down the stone
stairway to the main hall. And there
they came on a scene that held them
spellbound.

Virginia, a Luger automatic held in
one hand, was facing Bremner. Brem-
ner’s face was contorted into lines of
deep anger.

“It is too late now, my dear,” he was
saying. “That gun will do you no good.
Just as it will do you no good to know

that my story about your brother was
a lie. You see, your brother died in the
wTeckage of his plane.”

Virginia hadn’t noticed him edging
ever closer to her while he held her at-
tention by his talk. It was too late when
she did, for his fingers were almost on
the gun before she could pull its trig-
ger. But neither had seen Latimer and
silent group of natives in the doorway.

It was Latimer who leaped on Brem-
ner before he quite got his hands on the
gun. But this was not the Bremner of
the boat. This was a Bremner who bit
and clawed. Who had only one thing in
mind — to kill.

Latimer managed to get a grip on
Bremner’s sweaty throat, but his fin-
gers, weak from their labor on the cas-
tle wall, could not hold the grip. Brem-
ner twisted about savagely and now
Latimer was on the bottom with Brem-
ner’s fingers in a strangle hold on his
throat. Blackness was swimming before
his eyes. He could feel his tongue
swelling in his mouth from the terrible
pressure of Bremner’s fingers when a
loud report rang out. Bremner coughed
softly once and rolled away from Lat-
imer.

A little curl of smoke was coming
from the gun in Virginia’s hand. Lati-
mer leaped to his feet and ran to her.

And then with a huge shout, Von
Schultz leaped into the room — and was
met by the screaming body of natives.
His demoniac blows sent several reel-
ing. But no human could have with-
stood the savagery of their fury. In a
few minutes it was all over.

“Where did you get the gun?” Lati-
mer asked her.

“I found is after the women had left.
Von Schultz had evidently forgotten he
had it. I hid it in my dress. When the
fight began outside, I came down here;
Bremner saw me and then you came
in.”

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

173

T ATIMER led Virginia out of the
room. She walked past what had
once been the living body of Von
Schultz with averted eyes. The natives,
in their fury, had committed unspeak-
able things to him before he died. Now,
their fury spent, they followed Latimer
and the girl through the door.

The victorious natives, with Lato at
their head, were waiting for them.

“It is all over then?” asked Latimer.

“Yes,” the old man answered. “And
what are your wishes now, white man?
Speak, and whatever you want shall be
given youl”

Latimer did not answer, but instead
led the girl down the incline and around
through the underbrush, until once
again they were on the beach of the
shallow lagoon. Lato and the natives
stood around in a silent throng waiting
for Latimer to speak.

“There it is, Virginia,” he began.
“That will take us from this island.”

“Are you mad, Hugh?” she asked in
a horrified whisper. “Don’t you remem-
ber what Von Schultz said? And what
we went through?”

“Yes, my dear,” he answered. “But
no matter what you think, we’re going
through the red dust.”

Latimer turned to Benjy. “Lad,” he
said. “In .spite of what happened when
we came through that red area before,
are you game to go back? Even if what
happened to us when we landed on the
beach of this island — doesn’t happen
again?”

Benjy looked white, but he nodded.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m game.
Let’s get cutting. I don’t want to spend
the rest of my — ” he stumbled over the
words “ — the rest of my life, or what-
ever it is, here.”

“Then come on.” Latimer turned to
Lato and his people and bid them
goodbye. Then they went aboard the
ancient German U-boat. Benjy clam-

bered eagerly down the hatchway, and
in a few moments his high-pitched voice
came floating up to them.

“Everything looks to be in working
order. Come on down, and maybe we
can get the motors started.”

The two descended the hatchway,
sealed the entrance behind them. The
dull dang of the metal hatch rang hol-
lowly and ominously through the death-
like silence of the submarine’s hull.

Latimer and Virginia joined Benjy,
took up the posts he indicated. Then at
his signal they turned levers, wheels,
watched dials. And in a moment a
muffled beat of motors came from the
bowels of the little ship.

“She’s going!” exulted Benjy.

Latimer sighed with relief. “Okay,
lad, let’s get into the control room, and
take her out.”

Latimer took up his post at the peri-
scope, and at his direction, Benjy
maneuvered the sluggish pigboat,
creaking in every joint, out of the slip
where it had rested for twenty-seven
years. Latimer saw Lato and his na-
tives watching fearfully and sadly from
the beach, then turned his attention to
the wall of red dust out over the open
sea.

Nothing could be seen beyond it, but
as they approached it, his hair rose on
the back of his neck. The water just
beneath the dust — Latimer knew all at
once it wasn’t dust at all, but a form
of terrific energy of some sort, forming
a shell of hellish torment on this, its in-
side ring. Outside, it had been thin as
they entered it. Here it would be like
running squarely into a whirling buzz-
saw.

“Keep her going,” directed Latimer,
giving no sign of what he saw. But his
face was white. Benjy looked at him,
and his face became tense. He spoke
not a word. He licked his lips, but they
seemed to remain dry.

174

AMAZING STORIES

]S[OW a roaring noise began to come
through the hull — a noise that was
not a noise at all, because it was so low
in the auditory scale. It was more like
the aura of a devasting force which
was approaching nearer and nearer.

Latimer knew the truth as he watched
through the periscope. Nothing could
pass through that weird area of awful
energy and come out on the other side
alive! Almost he quailed, turned the
ship back. Then he gritted his teeth,
kept his eyes glued on the red wall ad-
vancing closer and closer —

Shrieking, tearing hell was upon
them now. Giant circular saws seemed
grinding away at the metal hull, seek-
ing to tear it apart. But somehow it
didn’t seem to be a physical force. The
metal itself buckled and went through
weird transformations, but it seemed
to remain its general shape, although
much tortured.

A scream came from Benjy’s lips, and
Latimer’s eyes jerked from the eye-
piece of the periscope. Benjy was. writh-
ing in awful agony, and even as Lati-
mer watched, his body contorted in-
credibly, and there came the sound of
snapping bones. As though he was pass-
ing through a field of force that altered
every atom of his make-up, sought to
tear him to shreds. And in Benjy’s
bloody face Latimer saw death! Benjy
was dead!

Then Latimer’s courage gave way.
He whirled toward the steering gear,
to turn the ship back. But he was too
late. With an awful, tortured scream,
Virginia reeled toward him, but fell to
the floor before she reached him, her
body caught in the invisible force. Once
more Latimer heard the sound of snap-
ping bones, and he heard the sound of
his own voice screaming in utter terror
as he leaped toward the stricken girl.
Then, with unutterable agony, the
force reached him, and in a whirling

wave of blackness he sank down into
nothingness . . .

^LL WAS quiet in the ship. The
muffled sound of the motors came
with the certainty that tortured pistons
fought against warped piston walls, and
were failing. Almost they seemed to
stop, but always they managed to beat
on just one more stroke.

Latimer was aware of that first. And
he lay there, eyes closed, not trying to
associate the sound with anything else.
Not until it stopped. With a last groan
the motors stopped. Latimer struggled
to sit up. He looked around him, saw
Benjy lying quietly, head pillowed on
one arm, as though asleep. He was
asleep! His breathing was deep and
regular.

“Virginia!” Latimer moaned. He
struggled to a standing position, saw
Virginia lying on her side, her eyes
wide as she stared at him. “You’re
alive!” he gasped. “Oh, Virginia, we’re
alive!”

. She sat up as he came to her. “Yes,”
she said wonderingly. “We are. But
how?”

He held her close. “I think I can ex-
plain it,” he. said. “But let’s wake Benjy
first, and find out where we are.”

But it was unnecessary to wake
Benjy. He rolled over, stared at them
a moment, then got up. “If I’m dead,”
he declared, “I’m glad of it. That pain
was something I never want to stand
again.”

They went up on deck. All about
them was the open sea, and nowhere in
sight was any land, nor any red cloud
of dust. Off on the horizon was a black
smudge.

“Ship, ahoy!” yelled Benjy. For
many moments they watched, saw that
the smudge was getting larger. “Com-
ing this way!” said Benjy at last, voic-
ing the answer to the question they had

ISLAND OF ETERNAL STORM

175

all been asking themselves.

“Yes,” said Latimer. “It looks as
though it can’t miss us.”

'y/’IRGINIA turned to him. “But
what about us?” she asked. “How
is it that we are alive? I can under-
stand the island. Somehow, on that is-
land, there was a power that restored
life. But certainly there is no such pow-
er out here in our own world. How, then,
did we come to life again?”

“I don’t exactly know,” said Latimer,
“but here’s my idea on it. Remember
what Von Schultz said about a legend
of a meteor? Well, meteors come from
space. They are vagrant pieces of stone
or metal that may have traveled
through space for so many years that
the distance could not even be imag-
ined. How can we know but what life
wherever that meteor comes from is not
something different than life here?
VTiat if it were exactly the opposite?
What if life were death, and death were
life?”

“What’s that again?” asked Benjy.

“It’s just this,” said Latimer. “Let’s
say that meteor, obeying natural laws of
life directly in opposition to our own,
landed on that island. Now, the influ-
ence of it might be great enough to re-
verse the natural life-law of the island.
In its descent, it killed all the popula-
tion, but because death is really life
where it came from, the transition ended
in life for the inhabitants, not death.
They died, but that made them live.
Don’t you see? If they hadn’t died,
they would have been dead.”

Benjy frowned, then his eyes lit in a
smile. “Sounds reasonable,” he said
cheerfully, “even If I don’t get it!”

“But what about us?” objected Vir-
ginia.

“Simple,” said Latimer. “We were
alive while on the island, but alive with
a life that was really death, insofar

as our own natural laws were concerned.
So, when we passed through the barrier,
and were killed — deprived of our life
force natural to that other universe —
we really were taking on what is nor-
mal life, to this world. In other words,
if we hadn’t died, coming through the
barrier, we would have been dead when
we reached the other side. But we did
die, and therefore, we are alive.”

Benjy swallowed hard. “Mr. Lati-
mer, would you do me a favor?” he said
hoarsely.

“What is it?”

“Let’s not talk about it any more.
It gives me the creeps. I’m only a plain,
ordinary seaman, and right now I feel
alive and okay. Let’s just forget the
whole thing, and talk about that ship
that’s coming. For instance, I could use
a nice big stack of wheatcakes and
maple syrup right now ! ”

“Looks like you’ll get them,” ob-
served Latimer with a smile. “That
ship coming up is one of our own bat'
tlewagons, or I never saw the stars and
stripes!”

Benjy jumped, uttered a cry of alarm.
All at once he stripped off his shirt and
waved it wildly in the air.

“What’s the matter?” asked Lati-
mer.

“Matter!” yelled Benjy. “If I know
those lads on that ship, they’ll start
shooting first and ask questions after-
ward. This is a Jerry sub we’re on I”

Latimer jerked off his shirt and began
waving too. Virginia looked about a
moment, then began waving her hand.
Latimer looked at her, then stopped
waving his shirt. “Quit waving your
hand,” he said. “They’ve seen us, and
I won’t have you flirting with any of
those boys!”

Virginia stopped waving. “Oh,
Hugh!” she said.

“Oh, you, yourself!” said Latimer,
Then he kissed her.

The Needle Points to
DEATH

By GERALD VANCE

Jeff was about to lose both his
life and his wife. Then a wavering
needle pointed to an odd solution!

J EFF MORAN made several last-
minute adjustments on the square
apparatus which was in position
on his lab bench. The equipment was
constructed of gleaming metal and its
four smooth sides were studded with
rheostats and gauges. On top of the
box-like device was a calibrated bar
that recorded a measurement of tem-
perature down to within a fractional
decimal point of absolute zero. There
was a barometric gauge above this, and
a sensitive pressure indicator.

Jeff’s lean face was anxious as he
studied the equipment and made the
last final checks. Everything was
right. He’d know in a few more mo-
ments whether his months of research
and work had achieved a practical
result.

Twenty, thousand miles above the
tiny V'enusian weather-base his partner,
Bill Dexter, was circling slowly in a
space ship, waiting for word from Jeff.

A door opened behind him and Jeff
turned quickly. Ann, his wife, smiled
at him as she came toward him.

“Kind of jumpy, aren’t you, mister?”

“I guess so,” Jeff said, feeling his
nerves slowly relaxing again. He knew
he was keyed up to an impossible ten-
sion — had been for the last few months.
It hadn’t been easy for Ann, he knew,
but if things went well today, they could
both forget the harrowing, nervous
strain of those months.

“You’re about ready for the final
test, aren’t you?” Ann asked.

Jeff nodded. “Dexter’s waiting for
my signal right now. We’ll know in
a few minutes — one w^ay or the other.”

Ann put her hand on his arm. “Jeff,
if things don’t turn out the way we
hope, it won’t really matter to us. We’ll
just go on trying until it does.”

Jeff patted her shoulder and smiled
into her eyes. At moments like this he
realized how lucky he was to have
Ann at his side. She was a small girl,
with a quick smile and short brown
hair, and in her leather trousers and
shirt she looked like a young boy.

“I think I’ve got it this time,” he
said, “but there’s always a chance I
overlooked something.”

“I wish I understood more about

176

178

AMAZING STORIES

your work,” Ann said. “Sometimes I
feel that you’d like to talk to me about
things, but can’t because I’m such a
ninny.”

“That’s nonsense,” Jeff grinned,
“You’re the perfect listener and that’s
all any scientist wants. Anyway, this
device isn’t particularly complex. It’s
simply a means to determine the tem-
perature in space at any given time.
You know, of course, that the tempera-
ture in the void is always pretty close
to absolute zero ; but it would be a great
help in rocket construction and naviga-
tion if we could know that tempera-
ture exactly, especially in areas like this
where there is considerable variation.
If my reasoning and work has been
correct the Allied Research Council will
have me on its staff inside of two weeks
to superintend mass productiofi of the
altoscope. And that will be living again
for you, honey. This drab hole is no
place for a woman.”

“I’ve never minded,” Ann said.

“You’d say that anyway,” Jeff said.
“But you’ll appreciate Earth a lot more
after your two years here.”

p-TE TURNED to the radio switch
and contacted Dexter. In a min-
ute his partner’s brash, confident voice
was in the room.

“All set, Jeff?”

“Yes. Let me check your position
again.”

“Twenty thousand miles on the head,
northeast of the base by 21 degrees.
Got it?”

“Okay. Now what’s the temperature
reading?”

There was a short silence and Jeff
felt a film of perspiration beading his
brow as he waited. Finally Dexter’s
voice came.

“.005,” he said. “Check?”

“Got it,” Jeff said.

He wiped his hands after he made

a notation of the figures on a chart.
Then he turned to the box-like device
on the bench and slowly closed a switch.
The lab seemed unnaturally still as the
delicate registering needle began to
flicker back and forth across the cali-
brated bar.

He could feel his heart beating loudly
and rapidly and his hands were clenched
tightly. Finally the swinging needle
came to a stop and Jeff bent quickly
down and read the number. He felt
a sudden singing sensation in his ears.

“Ann!” he yelled. “Look!”

Ann’s head was close to his as she
bent down and he could see the happy,
excited flush on her cheeks as she
checked the number.

“Oh, Jeff,” she said breathlessly,
“how wonderful!”

The needle was pointing squarely at
the numerals, .005. It was all over.

He signaled Dexter excitedly.

“Dex,” he shouted, “it worked! Can
you hear me?”

There was a short pause. Then:
“Sure I can hear you. Congratulations.
You’ll be the big shot of Allied Re-
search now for sure.”

Jeff didn’t miss the bitterness in his
partner’s voice. Bill Dexter was a good
enough scientist, but he had a peculiar
streak in him. He resented other
people’s good luck, and he had the idea
that he had been shelved away in an
unimportant spot because he lacked
the right connections.

“I suppose,” he went on, “you’ll clear
out of here fast enough now that your
luck has turned.”

“That won’t be up to me,” Jeff said.
“Anyway the alloscope hasn’t really
been proven yet. I want to make quite
a few more tests before I consider it
right. Maybe this was just a fluke.”

He felt annoyed at himself for prac-
tically apologizing to Dexter for his own
success.

THE NEEDLE POINTS TO DEATH

179

“I’m sure it’s no fluke,” Dexter said,
after a moment. “You aren’t the kind
who makes mistakes. Great scientists
never do. They leave them for suckers
like me who haven’t an uncle or brother
on the Council.”

TjriS voice went off with a click. Jeff
signaled him again, but the set was
dead. He turned to find Ann regarding
him with a worried little smile.

“Dexter sounded rather bitter,” she
said.

“I know. It’s too bad he has to take
it this way, but that isn’t my fault.”

Ann turned away and said quietly,
“rn be glad to get away from here for
one reason.”

“What’s that?”

“Dexter.”

“I thought you two got along all
right,” Jeff said with a puzzled frown.
His face hardened swiftly and he put his
hands on her shoulders and turned her
to face him. “Did he ever give you any
trouble?”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Ann said.
She shrugged and tried to smile. “May
be I’m Just being a silly woman, but
he looks at me tometimes with that
arrogant smile of his and I feel — oh, I
don’t know how to say what I mean.”

“I know,” Jeff said. “We’ll be gone
soon, but if he ever bothers you ITl
break him over my knee.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything to
you about it,” Ann said. “You’ve got
enough on your mind without worrying
about your temperamental wife. Now
go on with your work. I’ll fix you some
lunch.”

Jeff was busy recording the results of
the experiment when Dexter walked in.
He was a big man with, wide shoulders
and wavy blond hair. His blue eyes
were slightly mocking as he nodded to
Jeff.

“Feel pretty good I imagine,” he

said. “No more of this life for you.”

“I feel good,” Jeff said evenly, “but
not because I may get a little more com-
fortable job through this work of mine.
I’m thinking about the additional safety
this device will bring to space naviga-
tion. If it saves one life it’ll be well
worth the time and labor I’ve spent on
it.”

“Hear, hear,” Dexter said jeeringly.
“Save that for the banquets when you
get to Earth.”

He sauntered over to the lab bench
and studied the gleaming instrument
with an odd look in his eye. His atten-
tion was centered on the red needle that
indicated the temperature.

“I’ve got to hand it to you at that,”
he said finally. “It’s a neat piece of
work.”

“Thanks,” Jeff said dryly.

Dexter poked an inquisitive finger at
the needle, but Jeff caught his wrist be-
fore he could touch it.

“What’s the matter?” Dexter de-
manded. “Do you think I’m a sabo-
teur?”

“No,” Jeff said, “but that needle is
charged with almost five thousand volts
of electricity.”

Dexter dropped his hand back to his
side with an almost frightened gesture.

“Hell of a thing to leave exposed,”
he said.

“I had to,” Jeff said patiently. “When
it goes onto a space ship, naturally it
will be insulated or covered with glass.
But I’ve had so many checks and altera-
tions to make that I didn’t bother about
it now.”

“How do you work on it if it’s
charged?” Dexter asked.

“I use an insulated screwdriver to re-
move it,” Jeff said.

He was silently wondering what was
behind Dexter’s questioning. Dexter
had never displayed any interest in his
work; in fact, he had been almost con-

T80

AMAZING STORIES

temptuous of the labor Jeff had put
into it. Now his sudden interest seemed
suspicious.

“I see,” Dexter said.

He yawned and glanced at his watch.
“I think I’ll grab a nap,” he said.
‘‘Where's Ann?”

“She’s fixing lunch,” Jeff said. He
glanced up at Dexter and added,
“Why?”

“Just wondering,” Dexter said. He
grinned at Jeff and sauntered out.

J EFF sat before the bench for several
moments after he’d gone, a worried
frown on his face. He knew Dexter’s
type pretty well, and it was a type he
didn’t care for. In his years here he
had carefully avoided trouble with the
man, but he felt now that Dexter had
something on his mind. His questions
about the altoscope might indicate just
a normal curiosity, but . . .

Jeff shrugged and tried to concen-
trate on his work. The designs and
specifications for the altoscope were
locked securely in the vault and he was
suddenly glad that he had taken that
precaution.

He worked, then, until Ann came in
to tell him lunch was ready.

Dexter didn’t show up for lunch but
when they were finishing he appeared
in the doorway with a paper in his hand.
He was grinning sardonically.

“Sorry to interrupt your little chat,”
he said, “but this flash just came
through from Earth.”

“What is it?” Ann asked.

“Seems a squadron of Martian ships
are passing this way today. The Chief
wants you to go up on reconnaissance,
get their number and description.”

“Where were they sighted from?”
Jeff asked.

“The belt asteroid group saw them
go by at 2369 on a Northwest course,”
Dexter said.

Jeff frowned and looked at his
watch. He made a quick mental calcu-
lation. The Martian ships would be
passing overhead in a few minutes.

“Are you sure of the time?” he
asked Dexter.

Dexter reddened slightly.

“You can call back and check my
figures, if you like,” he said stiffly.

“I was just asking,” Jeff said. “Did
the chief ask for me particularly?”

“If you think I’m lying,” Dexter
said with sudden anger, “why don’t you
say so? I’m giving you the dope as I
got it. The chief evidently doesn’t
trust me anymore for a routine assign-
ment. Well, he can go to hell if he
doesn’t like my work. And that goes
for you too.”

“No one has said anything about
your work,” Jeff said quietly. “You're
doing all the talking, Dexter.” He
stood up and tossed his napkin onto
the table. “Is the ship ready?”

“Yes,” Dexter said. “She’s all set.”

“I’ll have to hurry, then,” Dexter
said. He bent quickly and kissed Ann.
“I’ll be back in a hour or so.”

When he straightened he saw that
Dexter was staring at him with hard
cold eyes; but he turned and walked
from the room before Jeff could say
anything to him.

Ann said, “Do you have to go, Jeff?
I’ve got a funny feeling — call it a
woman’s intuition — that something
might happen to you. Why don’t you
tell Dexter to go?”

“Because it’s my job,” Dexter said.
He smiled down at his wife. “And I
wouldn’t worry about your premoni-
tions. As the wife of a scientist, you
should be ashamed of such ideas.”

“I don’t care,” Ann said. “My
hunches have a way of turning out
right.”

Jeff kissed her again and mussed
her hair with his hand.

THE NEEDLE POINTS TO DEATH

181

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he
said.

^UTSIDE, the mechanic had
readied the single-seater for an
immediate blast-off.

“She’s ready to go, Mr. Moran,” he
said, smiling.

“Thanks,” Jeff said.

He ascended the mooring tower and
climbed into the small sleek ship. He
checked the controls carefully but
quickly and then signaled to the ground
for power.

The noise of the compressing motors
hummed in his ears for an instant and
the ship was hurled from the tower
with a hissing roar.

Jeff braced himself as the ship
cleaved through the thin atmosphere
and blasted out out into the void. He
climbed quickly, gaining altitude and
then he started a slow wide circle,
watching the fore and rear visi-screens
for the first sight of Martian ships.

They should be coming into sight
any second. He wondered fleetingly if
there was any significance behind their
flight. Relations between Earth and
Mars were ostensibly cordial, but any
unusual operations in the void were
carefully checked by both Powers.

May^ things were heading for a
flare-up. Jeff had a certain satisfac-
tion in the thought that if trouble did
break his altoscope would be an im-
portant addition to the fighting forces
of Earth.

He sat up in his seat as a single ship
appeared in fore screen but it turned out
to be a lumbering Venusian freighter. It
passed him on his port side, a couple
of thousand miles away. He acknowl-
edged its signal automatically and then
settled back to wait. But his face was
creased with a worried frown. Was it
possible that he had missed the Mar-
tian ships?

They were overdue by now and still
the void was completely empty.
Finally, after another ten minutes, he
signaled the asteroid belt. It took him
another five minutes to get in touch
with their operator.

“Hello,” he said, when he got a go-
ahead, “this is Jeff Moran from Venus,
station 9. Am I coming through?”

“Getting you fine, but a little inter-
ference,” the operator said. “Where
the hell are you?”

“About twenty thousand miles out,”
Jeff answered.

“Well, no wonder I ” The operator’s
voice in his ears sounded surprised.
“What can I do for you?”

“I want a check on the time you
sighted the Martian flight,” Jeff said.

There was a pause and then
the operator said, “You’re on a wild
goose chase, Moran. We haven’t
sighted any Martian squadrons for the
last three weeks.”

“What!” Jeff exclaimed. His frown
deepened. “Are you sure of that? We
got a report from the chief that a Mar-
tian flight passed your base heading
this way at 2369.”

“Something’s screwy, then,” the
operator said. “I’ve been on here all
day and I haven’t heard a word about
it. Why don’t you check with the
chief?”

“Okay, I will,” Jeff said.

jLTE CUT the circuit and signaled
Headquarters. Colonel Walker,
chief of the meteorology staff on Venus,
answered.

Jeff wasted no time.

“Colonel,” he snapped, “did you
send a message to base 9 about a half
hour ago concerning a group of Martian
ships?”

“Who’s talking?” Colonel Walker
asked irritably.

“This is Moran, Jeff Moran, of 9.”

182

AMAZING STORIES

“Oh. No, I sent no message to you
today. What was that about Martian
ships?”

Jeff didn’t bother to answer. He
broke the connection and sat motion-
less for an instant, his brain spinning
frantically. Dexter had lied to him.
But why?

There was only one answer and it
sent a wave of fear through him.

Not for himself. For Ann.

If Dexter was planning to get him
out of the way it could only be for
one reason. He intended to make his
own escape in the emergency ship at the
base. And Jeff knew that Dexter wasn’t
planning to leave alone.

With all the strength in his arms he
swung the ship back toward the base
in a steep dive. But suddenly he felt
a heavy constriction about his lungs,
and then he was fighting desperately for
breath.

He glanced at the oxygen meter and
saw that its needle was pointing
squarely at zero.

He was still minutes from the base
and his air supply was gone. Already
he could feel his legs growing numb
and before his eyes there was a flicker-
ing maze of blackness.

Recklessly he plunged the ship
toward the base. He was off the di-
rectional beam that would lead him to
the tower, but he didn’t have the time to
reset his course.

He knew that he had, at best, about a
minute left. And he had to get to the
ground within that time. His legs ached
with a dull steady pain and his hands
on the controls were sluggish. His
mouth opened and closed frantically
as he fought for air.

Dimly he heard the whine of friction
the ship made as it sliced into the
atmosphere of the planet. He was
flashing down at full speed for a head-on
crash.

With his last atom of strength he
groped for the repulsion rocket switch.
The ground raced toward him on the
fore visi-screen at a speed his eyes
couldn’t register.

He snapped the switch shut and his
head snapped forward as the repulsion
rockets suddenly roared into life, check-
ing the hurtling speed of the ship.
His safety belt almost cut through his
body as he was flung forward with the
tremendous velocity of the ship.

Twenty feet from the ground the ship
came to a dead stop — then it dropped
to the hard rocky earth with a jarring
crash.

Jeff unbuckled his safety strap and
staggered to the door. For a moment
he feared the buckling of the frame
had hopelessly jammed the hatch,
trapping him in the ship. But it was
only his own weakness. His fingers
clawed desperately at the handle and
finally it swung open.

A reviving draft of air blew into his
face as he stumbled out of the ship. He
sucked air gratefully into his laboring
lungs and his head began to clear.

He was about a hundred yards from
the base laboratory. With a prayer on
his lips he began to run. . . .

'^HE front door of the small building
was open and the living room was
empty. He crossed the floor with rapid
strides and flung open the laboratory
door.

Ann was struggling in Dexter’s arms,
her face a mask of loathing and terror.
She saw Jeff as he stumbled into the
room.

“Jeff!” she cried.

Dexter’s back was to Jeff, but he
wheeled at Ann’s cry and whipped a ray
gun from his belt. He was wearing a
rubber space suit and there was a heavy
valise on the floor beside him.

“Don’t move!” he panted, glaring at

THE NEEDLE POINTS TO DEATH

183

Jeff. “You got back here but it won’t
do you any good. I’m leaving here, you
understand? And I’m taking your wife
and the plans for the altoscope with me.
But you’re not coming! You’re going
to stay right here with a dozen holes
in your body to keep you company.”

Jeff watched him as he spoke and
he saw the insanity in the man’s eyes.
Dexter was not bluffing. He meant just
what he said.

“You thought you were so smart,”
Dexter .said with a gloating leer, “but
I’m holding the high cards now. You
should have died out there in space and
saved me the trouble of shooting you.”

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to kill
me,” Jeff said quietly. “If I hadn’t
called and checked on your phony story
about the Martian ships, I wouldn’t
have had time to get back here to the
base.” He glanced casually about the
laboratory and then walked deliberately
to the bench that held the altoscope.
Every foot of the way he expected a
searing bolt from the gun in Dexter’s
hand, but it didn’t come.

“Don’t make another move,” Dexter
cried, his face working. “I’m not just
talking.”

“Yes you are,” Jeff said coolly. “If
you’re going to shoot me, go ahead.”

A wild, thousand-to-one possibility
had occurred to him, but he had to stall
long enough to put it into action.

“I intend to go on working ” he said
with his back to Dexter. “If you want
to shoot me that’s your business.”

He pulled a p>air of rubber gloves
onto his hands and picked up a long coil
of wire from the bench. Quickly he
fastened the wire to the altoscope needle
and then picked up a screwdriver.

“I don’t know whether you intend to
shoot me or not,” he said quietly. His
back hid the screwdriver from Dexter’s
eyes as he quickly tied the wire to its
Steel tip. “But if you’re going to I wish

you’d get it over with.”

“Turn around!” Dexter snarled. “I
want to see your face when I blow a hole
in your belly.”

“Jeff!” Ann screamed. “He’s going
to shoot!”

“Then let him,” Jeff said.

He turned slowly, holding the screw-
driver in his hand. Dexter was stand-
ing about four feet from Ann, his finger
tightening on the trigger of the gun.

“All right,” Dexter suddenly
screamed, “you’re begging for it! ”

TTE RAISED the gun slightly and at
that instant Jeff flung himself to
one side and hurled the screwdriver at
Dexter’s face.

The blast from the gun caught Jeff
in the shoulder and he fell to the floor,
teeth clenched in pain; but the screw-
driver struck Dexter in the face.

A blinding flash lighted the room and
Dexter’s scream was that of a soul in
hell. His eyes were glazed in death as
he sprawled to the floor.

Jeff crawled to one knee and stared
at his limp body with grim eyes. The
screwdriver he had thrown had been
connected to the electrically charged
altoscope needle with the coils of wire.
It had been charged with over five thou-
sand volts of electricity and Dexter’s
space suit had grounded him perfectly.

Ann was at Jeff’s side, sobbing.

He put his good arm about her.

“It’s all over,” he whispered. “He
got just what he deserved, don’t worry.”

“I’m not thinking of him,” Ann said
tearfully. “But you’re hurt.”

“ITl be all right,” Jeff said.

He forced a weak grin to his Ups.

“And I’ve got a hunch we’ll be on our
way back to Earth before many more
hours.”

Ann smiled at him tlirough her tears.
“But you don’t believe in hunches.”

“From now on I will,” Jeff said.

« « SCIENTIFIC ODDITIES » »

By LYNN STANOISH

Science uncovers more of Ihese ^'(rue^^ oddities every day!

RADIO WAVES HARMFUL TO
SEEDLINGS

F or many years it was believed that radio
waves had a stimulating and beneficial effect
on plant growth. However, Drs. J. van
Overbeek, Brantley, and Potapenko have proved in
their experiments conducted at the California In-
stitute of Technology that radio waves are harm-
ful to plants.

Seedlings of corn that had been germinated in
wet sand were subjected to strong doses of iVi-
meter radio waves for periods of from twenty to
thirty seconds before being re-planted. This treat-
ment produced a very noticeable stunting of stem
growth. If the seedlings were exposed for periods
of over a minute before re-planting the tops of
the plants were killed. Dr. van Overbeek had
shown in previous experiments that heating the
seedlings would also produce a stunting effect and
he determined that this was a result of the de-
struction of the auxin, the growth-promoting
substance in the seedlings.

From these two groups of experiments, the
scientists concluded that It was the internal heat-
ing produced by the short radio waves that caused
the damage to the plant tissues. That this con-
clusion is correct was proved when an outside
application of a growth-promoting substance had
the same restoring effect on plants that had been
either heated or rayed.

* ♦ *

IODINE CURE FOR GOITER

'^HE discovery of iodine and its subsequent use
as a cure for goiter was all brought about by
war and the story bears out the statement that
truth is often stranger than fiction.

During the Napoleonic Wars, the armies of
France were continually clamoring for a larger and
then still larger output of gunpowder. One French
manufacturer of saltpeter, in order to increase his
output, made a radical change in his manufacturing
process. Instead of using wood ashes, he used a
water extract of burnt seaweed. Although his new
process was entirely satisfactory, he noticed that
erosion was taking place on his copper vats and
he found that the eroding agent was the water
extract used in his new process. Because of the
color of its vapor, he called the substance iodine.
It was in 1819, six years after its christening, that
iodine was found to exist in great quantities in
the ash of the common sponge.

Coindet, a physician of Geneva, was the man
to see in this newly discovered element the effective
agent of the ancient cure for goiter. To test his
theory, he began to administer iodine to his goiter

patients and in 1819 he reported that a dosage of
l.S to .1 grains of iodine daily would cause goiters
to disappear in from six to ten weeks even when
they were of large size and long standing. He
added that a noticeable improvement was noted
within eight to ten days after the treatment was
started.

With Coindet's discovery made public, the io-
dine treatment became “the thing” for everyone.
To protect themselves from goiter, the people be-
gan to wear small bottles of iodine about their
necks. Although Coindet and other able physicians
warned both the medical profession and the public
that iodine was poisonous and that an excessive
dosage could result in death, this warning had no
effect on either the public or many of the doc-
tors. Many persons died as a result and this gave
the iodine treatment for goiter a “black-eye”
which it did not deserve. It was until 1895,
when it was shown that the thyroid gland was
rich in iodine, that the treatment for goiter was
again used to correct the iodine deficiency in the
glands.

♦ ♦ *

SIMPLE TEST PICKS RIGHT MAN
FOR JOB

/^NE of the major problems of the army today
is the task of placing hundreds of thousands
of recruits into that particular branch of the serv-
ice for which they are best suited. This problem
has also been a very important one in industry
even prior to the war. It is therefore with great
interest that a report was received from Dr. Z.
Protrowski and Miss B. Candee of the National
Youth Administration that men who could succeed
in the tank and other highly mechanized units
of the army and who would be able to carry the
burdens of a modern war, can be chosen by means
of art inkblot test now used to determine a per-
son’s creative imagination.

The test requires that the person study a
selected group of black and colored inkblots and
then tell just what kind of a picture or object the
shapes bring to his mind. This simple process
can give a psychologist clues to a person’s past
experience, interests, and personality which cannot
be brought out in a simple interview.

Dr. Protrowski and Miss Candee used a test
group of 70 men and they claim in 64 of the cases
they successfully picked the men who would make
good among mechanics and those who would
“crack” in their new life with the army.

Further claims for the success of the test were
indicated by the fact that it revealed the young
men who could make good in regular camp life,
1S4

SCIENTIFIC ODDITIES

185

but who cracked when faced with a situation of
unusual military strain in six tested cases of which
five were predicted correctly by this test alone.

AMERICAN INGENUITY COMES
THROUGH

A MERICAN ingenuity, consistently on the look-

^ out for new methods of improving and safe-
guarding our national security, has brought forth
another weapon which is all-important to the
successful prosecution of the war. This weapon
does not fire shells or bullets, but, nonetheless, is
just as important if not more so. This new
weapon, the culmination of years of scientific re-
search, is the use of a particular type of rayon
coixl in the manufacture of tires for American
bombers and army trucks. The significant thing
to note, however, is that this material not only
supplements our dwindling supply of rubber; it
can be produced from resources right in this coun-
try. Thus this rubber substitutes helps to over-
come the military handicap imposed by the rubber
shortage. This material b used very extensively
in the production of tires for many of the modern
military vehicles.

This rayon product, in the manufacturing pro-
cess, is placed under the valuable outer covering
of. rubber. Thus this product must and does ab-
sorb a terrific amount of punishment which it
undergoes when, for instance, a heavy bomber
lands at a high rate of speed. When one realizes
how much force action is involved in the landing
of tons of metal at high speeds he commences to
realize the significance of thb new material. Fur-
thermore, the modern army car is driven over
rough country which imposes terrific hardships on
the tires. But tires consisting mainly of thb rayon
material have proven themselves worthy and re-
liable.

Another advantage of the rayon cord is that heat
does not cause it to lose its durability or strength.
Thus the tire is more resistent to blow-outs when
it is healed by its being used for a long period
of time without let-up. This latter advantage is
of the utmost imjx>rtance because in the modem
war, army cars are driven at amazing speeds
throughout hot deserts and over rough land. Abo,
since tires made of this rayon cord are lighter
than the ordinary tire, the saving in weight can
be utilized to increase the amount of bombs car-
ried by the plane equipped with these tires. Or
thb decrease in weight can be used to increase the
bombing range of the planes. This benefit, of
course, is of prime significance in the winning of
the war.

A “PHONY PHONE"

A TOST people do not realize that when a horse
^ is seen trotting down the street and the
sound of his hoofs is heard at the same time, the
association between the sound of the hoofs and
the direction of the sound is identified, almost

automatically by experience in the mind. For if
a sound is received more loudly in one ear than
the other, the individual “senses” that the sound
is coming from that direction.

An interesting experiment has been made in
which sound entering the two ears were inter-
changed. This was effected by an instrument called
a pseudopkone, consbting of tubes fitted into the
two ears which led over the head to a trumpet
(or receiving horn) just above the opposite ear.
As a r^ult, each ear received the sound which
would have ordinarily affected the other ear.

For the first few days the wearer of the pseudo-
phone lived in utter confusion! An automobile
would be seen coming down the street and the
sound of its horn and of its motor would come
from the opposite direction. A person coming
through a door would he heard entering from the
opposite side of the room.

After a few days, with the help of cues from
the visual field, the subject learned to localize
sounds fairly well again, This was a new learn-
ing process. Just as the restored cripple has to
learn how to walk again, so did our subject have
to “learn how to hear again." When the pseudo-
phone was removed, normal hearing was imme-
diately returned.

* * •$

POST-MORTEM MILKING
l^HEN does a cow manufacture her milk?
’ " Does she manufacture continuously while be-
ing milked? Or b it manufactured long before
and stored? Or b it manufactured just before
milking time ? Many people have wondered about
these questions.

Most farmers, teachers, and professional men
engaged in the field of dairy cattle work are said
to believe that the udder of a cow will hold only
about half a pint of milk to the quarter and
that the liquid is manufactured just as the cow
gives it down at milking time.

The question was approached by the United
States Department of Agriculture. And it was
proved that most of the milk is not manufactured
during the few minutes required for the milking
process.

The proof of tbb conclusion was obtained by a
novel experiment in post-mortem milking. Two
cows were killed, their udders immediately re-
moved mid mounted on a framework, and then
milked. One of these cows had been giving an
average of about twelve pounds at each milking.
It was found that a total of ten and twenty-seven
one-hundredths pounds of milk was drawn fTora
thb cow’s udder after it was severed from the
body. Thus eighty-five per cent of her milk had
been stored in her udder before she was slaugh-
tered.

The only answer to any scientific question b
found by the application of scientific method —
carefully planned experimental work. Even in such
a down-to-earth activity as milking “Bossy",
science b the master.

THE AMERICAN DRAGON

By L. TAyLOB HANSEN

There is much mystery behind the drasen legends of the American Indian.
What is the mysterious connection with the other continental aborigines?

S TANDING on the edge of the Taos Pueblo,
the world-traveler who knows his Sahara,
receives the surprise of his life. Tall, slim,
masculine figures slip by entirely wrapped in an
all-enveloping white blanket which only allows
dark, slits of eyes to show. Is this the United
States? Or is that ghostly figure now passing one
of those cruel and mysteriously “veiled ones” of
the Sahara — the Tuaraks? What strange freak has
caused such vastly removed peoples to adopt the
same costume? Or is it a freak chance? The
average citizen will shrug his shoulders and go
on. The archaeologist starts asking questions.

The Sahara and the American Desert have one
very obvious trait in common. Qu^tions are not
desirable. Yet some of us have so much of that
insatiable curiosity of the “elephant’s child” in our
makeup that we do not know when to stop. And
sometimes we find out some very fascinating eth-
nological answers. This is true when we can offer
interesting information in return for that which
we seek. In such a case, the best informant is the
conservative of all the conservatives — the "medi-
doe man” himself. The trick is to get him inter-
ested. It can be done.

There are means of accomplishing this, as well
as ways in which it cannot be done. One cannot
accomplish anything in a hurry with an Indian.
He lives in a more quiet world. He do« not know
the meaning of the word which is so liberally
used by us. His very conversation is interspersed
with long pauses which would be actually em-
barrassing to a skilled conversationalist of the
white race.

In talking to an Indian of his lore, as do not
try to hurry is rule number one, so seriousness is
rule number two. To many a fool has tried to
win the story of the past in a week or a month,
and having received an honest answer, such as
the legend of the Snake-Eagle War, has turned his
scornful laughter upon the surprised and offended
narrator. The Indian youth must go through
trials and ordeals to obtain this ancient wisdom
in order to prove his worthiness to receive. Why
.should they hand it out to the white man who

only turns upon it his ridicule? This is the In-
dian’s point of view.

The third rule to remember, is that the tribal
lore is the property of the entire tribe. According
to ancient law, should one member give it away
without the consent of the others, his eyes, tongue
or life should be forfeited. Thus the veils of
secrecy which keep the curious white man from
the inner meanings of the symbols are not easily
pierced,

(In order to protect the life of my informant,
in the following, the character is Actionized, but
the names given are facts, as are the legends. The
conclusion reached is that toward which science
must inevitably come, with further study and co-
ordination of what information is now to be found
within ethnological studies made by the Smithson-
ian upon the Pueblos, and Pueblo religion within
the last two decades.)

The present writer had just seen the Apache
Devil Dance for the first time. (The Devil Dance
is the one in which tridents of lighted torches, the
central prong being four together, are borne upon
the head while a sword and snake-lance are car-
ried in the hands. In this dance the participants
are not only masked but a mouth-veil is also worn.
The number four, so sacred to the Snake Totem
is more than eindent.) The trident and the mouth-
veil ! The combination w'as also to be found in
“The Dance of the Veiled One” sometimes given
by San Domingo Pueblo, only in the latter, the
veil is worn so that nothing of the face shows but
the eyes. Another difference was that the trident
carried was the rainbow. This fact had marked
the “Veiled One” as Itzamna who is so closely con-
nected with the rainbow in Maya religion. Or
did it? One cap never be certain.

AT ONCE, 1 sought out a certain Indian. 1
shall call him “The Sage” because of his ex-
tensive knowledge — of which I am sure I have but
scratched only a trifle below the veneer. He was
an old man with iron-grey hair, but the tiger-
gleam was in his eyes, and his tread was cat-like,
with much hidden strength.

188

AMAZING STORIES

“This figure, is he a devil to the Apaches?” I
asked bluntly with unwise enthusiasm.

‘‘I do not know. I am not an Apache.”

Of course, I knew then that the question was
unwisely worded as well. My friend was a Kere-
sian, a tongue which is considered to be almost
without affinities.

“But,” I persisted, “the figure is so similar to
that of the ‘Veiled One,’ who is a Keresian God.”

“You are right.”

“Could you find it possible to tell me the name
of the ‘Veiled One’?” I persisted.

“Indians do not believe in speaking sacred
names. They think that if you speak the name,
then the power of the name fades, and when you
need the power, it is not there.”

“Then let me tell you about this god and the
various names he has carried. To the Egyptians
of many milleniums ago, he was Ammon Ra. To
the Greeks, be was Pan, but he had already be-
come by this time a minor god for he belonged
to a far more ancient world than Periclean Greece.
To the Norse, he was the ‘Two-horned’ and to
the Mediterranean world be had many of the
characteristics later given to Baal and Ishtar —
such as his continual connections with child-sac-
rifice, and that he was considered ‘fire-breathing,’
but lived in water. In his best aspects, he was
pictured as a mother holding her infant son in
her arms, but by the nations who were trying to
represent him as their ‘spirit of evil’ — he was
portrayed as a dragon — usually two — mother and
son.”

“A dragon?”

“One of those.” I explained, tossing a pebble
after a lizard who was scuttling away through the
sage and sand, “Only much larger.”

He nodded thoughtfully. We had now reached
the open desert where there were no eavesdroppers.

“The Pueblos of your people are known as the
Keres Nation. What does the name mean?”

“It has no meaning.”

“That reminds me of a certain ancient people
known as the Karians who were a sea-peoples, of
mysterious origin, and once over-ran much of the
Mediterranean world, Their name had no mean-
ing either. But the letter ‘K’ stood for ‘people’
and ‘A-R.’ stood for ‘Ammon-R’.”

“Tell me something of the Indian tribes who
hold sacred this great reptile, or worship a ‘Veiled
One’.” he asked.

“To some extent all of them do respect the
reptiles, especially the snakes, and even to frogs.
But there are some who. . . . You ask me to tell
you of the tribes who belong to the Totem. Very
well. Point to the direction where they live.”

Without a moment’s hesitation he pointed to the
south.

“Why do you point south?”

“Because we have a tradition that we were once
a very great nation. We had a land of shining-
roofs. We had cities with beautiful temples where
the ‘Veiled One’ ruled. Then came a devastating
conqueror from the south who drove us before him

like tumble-weed before the wind, Tell me of the
cities to the south.”

“t'lRST, there are the Zapotecs. They have a
calendar midway between the Maya and the
Aztec, all three of which are sun-calendar. Pos-
sibly this means that the Zapotec is the stem from
which the others branched. They had cities usu-
ally built near water or lakes, or upon islands.
Their main god was a ‘Veiled Majesty.’ Their
totem the Great Lizard. . . .

“They built their cities upon islands in lakes
because that is where Si-pa-pu gave birth to the
tribes of men. That is why water is sacred, be-
cause water is the communication to this island-
homeland which was again swallowed up by wa-
ter, long, long ago.”

“What direction was this water-homeland?”

“Why to the south, and then toward the di-
rection of the rising sun. And Si-pa-pu was the
great Earth-goddess, who is sometimes painted
with the symbol of the Great-Reptile. But you
did not finish your story about the peoples of the
south.”

“Yes, of course. We still have the very inter-
esting Mayas. Their liberaries were burned by
some Spanish fanatics, but this caused such a
storm of protest from the scholars of the day, that
the Spanish monarch sent out inquiries as to their
history. Maya sages replied, and thus we have a
sketchy history of this much-conquered people.

“It seems that the Chanules or People-of-the-
Snake were the first to build at Yucatan. They
declared that the Serpent crawled out of the Sun-
rise-sea, which probably means that they were sea-
peoples. Then early in the story, came the Itzaes
from the South. They were by Itzamna, or
as some of the Maya tribes in the jungles of Cen-
tral America call him — Zamna, Itiwana, or Tiama.
(The name has a curious way of reminding one
of the Mediterranean Dragon — Tiamat, the Tiamat
of Ancient Su-Mer.) There seems to be some con-
fusion about this figure. He is sometimes spoken
of as a god and again as a man. Possibly, by the
time the Itzaes had reached Yucatan, he had al-
ready been long deified. Like the similar figure
of Votan, among the Guatemala Indians and cer-
tain Mexican tribes, Itzamna is spoken of as a
white man who brought a fleet of ships from
across the Sun-rise Sea from his lost homeland.
He is the Lord-of-Leaming, the inventor of writ-
ing and of the calendar. Indeed he has many of
the characteristics of Osiris in Egypt. Upon one
fact he differs. As both Votan and Osiris are of
the Snake Totem, Itzamna is of the Great Drag-
on. . . .”

“Tell me of these people — the Ishtzas.”

He stopped and sat upon a rock where he could
face me. I squatted ujwn a smaller stone at his
feet.

“The Itzaes came from the south, and were flee-
ing before conquerors. They settled among the
peoples of the Serpent Totem, the Chanules or Ah-
Canule. They built Chi-chen-Itza, which is the

THE AMERICAN DRASON

1S9

Athens of the Americas for beauty. Then after a
golden age of a number of centuries, a devastating
army came from the south. They were the Tu-
tul-Xius, which is pronounced, we are told by the
Indians as Too-tool-Shioux (or Shu). These peo-
ple too, declared that they were once very great
and had vast cities but were driven out by a con-
quering army and had spent many generations in
the woods and the mountains and jungles, living
upon the strength of their good bows. They drove
out some of the Ttzaes and conquered the rest, and
again the empire began to rise, but before long it
was conquered by the Toltec or Quiche army com-
ing down from the north. These people, known
to us as the Mayas, tried to raise another civiliza-
tion but the Aztecs, or their fore-runners, the Ni-
caraoes (from whence we derive Nicaragua) were
beginning to over-run the country in their drive
down from the north. At this point the Spanish
stej^ed in.”

“Was the ‘Veiled Majesty’ worshipped by the
Ishtzas?”

“I do not know. Still it seems probable. Even
today, the Mayas always veil their nose and
mouth at night when they must step out into the
night air, Undoubtedly that has some forgotten
ritualistic significance.”

“All you have told me points to the homeland
of these peoples as to the south — still south. If
they built cities there, where are the ruins?”

“That is the rub. Both the Itzaes and the Tu-
tul-Xiu5 say they were driven out from a southern
empire. Yet today, we know only of that ‘south,’

I have received a number of requests for more
information concerning the books which I give as
references. Many of them are almost unobtainable,
they have been so long out of print. I would sug-
gest that if anyone is interested, they first try to
read the volume from the “Reserve” shelf of the

as the most impenetrable jungle on earth (Brazil).

“But this land from which Zamanya came — this
land out in the Sun-rise Sea?”

“There is no such island today— east of South
America. Perhaps, as you suggested, it was swal-
lowed again by the water.”

WfE SAT through one of the long silences which
’ ' characterize Indian conversations. Then slow-
ly he rose. He threw back his head and looked
around at the colorful desert.

“My people have been in this land for many
generations. Perhaps it is not well that they take
so much knowledge with them into the shadows.
Therefore, I have decided to answer your questions
about the dance of the ‘Veiled One,' and about the
real name of my people. The name of the ‘Veiled
One’ you yourself told me was Zamna. In one
dialect we call him ‘Tamanya’ and in another,
‘Zamda’ I”

As the significance of this fell across my face,
he smiled.

“Yes, what you are thinking is true. The real
name for my nation is not Keres. That is a name
for the white man to call us by-

There is another name — a secret name. That is
the one for which you have been ... let us say
. . . fishing? Perhaps it is not so wise, after all,
to keep such things secret. Therefore, I have
made up my mind to tell you. As every Keresian
knows, we are the ‘K'at Ishtza’ which translated
into English simply means: ‘The People of the
Ishtza'.”

IH£ END

Public Library in the nearest city. If the book is
not to be had there, the librarian is the person who
can give the most detailed information as to how
and where, in any particular city, to go about ob-
taining the volume. — Author.

A SCIENTIFIC BROTHER-SISTER ACT

W HAT would happen if an infant ape were
reared with the same opportunity as the
human infant? Two scientists, Mr. and
Mrs. W. N. Kellogg, sought the answer to this
interesting question in the most direct way. They
reared a female chimpanzee along with their own
son for nine months!

When “Gua”, the chimpanzee, was adopted,
she was seven and a half months old; their son,
Donald was ten months old. Both were treated
with the same gentle care. The two “children” ate,
slept, and played together. Gua, stronger and
physically more mature than Donald, was more
adept at activities such as climbing and acro-
batics. She was more rapid in movements and
seemed to learn a great many things easily. Of
most interest is Gua’s learning of the so-called
humanizing behavior. She quickly learned to eat
with a spoon, to drink liquids out of a glass, to
open doors, and to do these things better than
did Donald, and showed in general, more coopera-

tion and obedience.

But in one important phase of development,
Gua lagged behind. The ape learned to under-
stand a large number of words and phrases, it
seemed, but she never learned to speak. Donald,
of course, learned language in the normal course
of development. At the age of one year, he was
able to say da-da, ma-ma, Gya (for Gua), and
din-din for dinner. Later he uttered ba (for boo),
da (for down), and bow-wow (for dog). He also
became very skillful in his imitation of sounds
made by the chimpanzee. These were classified as
the bark, the food bark, the screech or scream, and
the “oo-oo” cry.

Thus, by virtue of the powerful tool — language
—Donald is destined for far greater things than
is Gua. Donald and bis fellow humans alone can
speak, r«id, write, worship supernatural beings,
build skyscrapers, and predict the position of the
stars a thousand years from now.

Such is the power of language!

190

AMAZING STORIES

The Science of Food

F ew indeed are the humans who realize the
great debt ow'ed by them to the simple lit-
tle plants which are seen almost every-
where. The first to reach the land were the
plants and their presence permitted animals to
come on land and establish themselves there,
The foods of the living consist of three major
types with additional substances to be added in
small quantities. The three major types of foods
are proteins, carbohydrates and fats.

Fats are synthesized from carbohydrates, so
they need not be considered at length here. The
fats are found in quantity on and in any well
fed animal. And since they are in balance with
carbohydrates, an animal which has plenty of
carbohydrates is almost certain to have a large
amount of fat.

It is quite a different matter with the carbo-
hydrates, for they must be synthesized out of
carbon dioxide and oxygen. By a system, whose
chemistry ha.s been entirely worked out by bio-
chemists, the plants which are green and have
green leaves, trees for instance, can take these
two gases and unite them into a simple carbo-
hydrate or sugar as wc commonly call them, in
the presence of a wonderful substance, the green
coloring matter. Water enters into this picture
in the form of vapor, playing an important role.

These sugars are used by the plants, but at
certain times of the year, especially when the sun
is strong, the plants store up quite a bit of this
sugar and they convert it into starch. The plant
most famous for this type of action is the potato.
These start out just like other plants but during
the summer they make so much carbohydrate
that they must store large quantities in the form
of tubers.

The proteins are the class of food which de-
serves most attention. Essentially we are what
our proteins make us. The proteins are the
determining factors in the type of animal, the
type of blood, and many other fine details of
structure and function, Proteins are built up
from groups of amino acids. These acids are
ammonia compounds, or essentially organic com-
pounds with nitrogen in them. It is beyond the
ability of animals to build up their own proteins.
They must get them from other animab, or from

plants. Since only carnivorous animals eat other
animals, the herbivorous animals have the re-
sponsibility of getting the simple proteins from
the plants and breaking them down to amino
acids and then building them up to substances
like themselves. This is essentially what man
does, but he gets his proteins from plants and
animals as well. He breaks them down to tlieir
constituent substances and then rebuilds them
for his own use.

Only plants have the ability to build proteins
or amino acids. While there are only twenty-
seven different types of amino acids, there are
almost infinite tyi>es of proteins. To be mathe-
matical for a moment, the number of proteins can
be approximately found by multiplying twenty-
seven by twenty-six, and this product by twenty-
five and so on. This will show why it is a much
simpler matter to build up our proteins from
another animal’s amino adds than to attempt to
get proteins just like our own, which is impos-
sible anyway,

These figures also lend credence to the claims
of the vegetarians who claim to be able to get
all out of plants that we can get out of animals.
This b true, but it b not quite so ea-sy to eat
almost twenty different typ>es of plants where
two types of meat will suffce. It can be done
nevertheless.

Our debt to plants does not end with the two
major classifications of food however, since our
bodies need several lypte of salts which they can
and do provide, Through plants and plant food
we get calcium, magnesium even iron, which
spinach is especially noted fox. Iodine too is
another important substance which is removed
from plant food in the process of digestion.

Moreover, plants are the only creatures which
can build up the very necessary vitamins. We
have heard much about vitamins recently, and
many drug com|>anies have shown in large ad-
vertisements just how important the vitamins are.
Scientists have known just how terrible lack of
them could be for quite some time now.

We have and shall always have a debt of grati-
tude toward the plants not only for the begin-
ning of animal life on land, but also for the
continued sustenance of it.

COMING IN THE MARCH ISSUE

A Seiisational New Interplanetary Story by

e. H. IRWIN

"THE PLANET OF DEAD CITIES"

ON SALE AT YOUR NEWSSTAND JANUARY 10th

^MAZING Stories will publish in each issue a selection of letters from readers.

Everybody is welcome to contribute. Bouquets and brickbats will have
an equal chance. Inter-reader correspondence and controversy will be encour-
aged through this department. Get in with the gang and have your say.

AN OLD CLASSIC REMEMBERED Rice Burroughs is now in Africa on war duty. Be

is doing no fiction. But when he returns, his inter-
Sirs: rupted series will continue. 3. The same wHk

I wish to thank you for the wonderful magazine Hawk Corse. Anthony Gilmore is too busy in-

you give to the public. You print many fine venting war weapons (or some suck thing) to write

stories, but none that has come up to “The Green more at the present time. 4. Irwin is at work on

Splotches,” by T. S. Stribling. It was truly a the sequel to Martin Brand, which he says will be

clasac. long and good. 5. Because of the paper shortage.

J. O. Hedcpeth, we reverted to publishing only original material, in
Route 9, Box 88, order to be entirely fair to our writers. No more

Charlotte, N. C. reprints for the duration. 6. Yes, we wrote “Black

You might be interested to know that "The World,” possibly the only thing we ever did that

Green Splotches" was published recently in a the fans applauded heartily. It makes us itch to

pocket-book selection of classics, as was Wallace write another stetry. Maybe we will, if the fans

West’s "The Last Man,’’ both reprinted from would like it? As for "Moon of Double Trouble"

Amazing Stories. — Ed. — written, but still unscheduled. Howard Browne

is working on a new T ham . — Ed.

STREET OF BROKEN PROMISES

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